


Light of a Distant Star

by Amycat8733



Series: Counting Stars 'verse [2]
Category: Stargate Atlantis, Stargate SG-1
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Major Character Injury, Romance, Sentient Atlantis, Soul Bond
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-11-26
Updated: 2016-10-15
Packaged: 2018-05-03 12:51:37
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 10
Words: 36,021
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5291564
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Amycat8733/pseuds/Amycat8733
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A mission gone wrong breaks the soul bond between John and Cam. Will the pair get back together or will Luck, Circumstance and the Pegasus Galaxy keep them apart?</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Conversion

**Author's Note:**

> Hello all! It is Thanksgiving Day and an auspicious time to start a new story. Welcome to the next part of Counting Stars.   
> My sincere thanks to DorothyOz for betaing this story and for her assistance in smoothing out rough spots and nudging me around road blocks!  
> Buckle your belts cause this is going to be a crazy ride folks! Now, on with our story...

_Where is he? We must find him._

Find who?

_Our mate. They are keeping him from us. We must find him._

John roared and stalked through the door to his quarters, fists swinging to either side and sending the two guards flying. He heard one of the guards reporting his escape, but his attention and his senses were focused on his search.

More of the soldiers tried to stop him, but he was too fast, too strong and he took them down. Trying to shake off his pursuers, he ran to a cave-like area that his memory told him would be good for an ambush. He scurried up the wall and waited until those seeking him gathered below. He felt a tickle in his head then something popped and he could hear another’s voice in his head. _Her_ voice. The Queen. _Teyla_ , his fading human side supplied. She sensed him and was near the periphery of the room, searching for him even as he prepared to strike.

His drop from the roof surprised all of them. Some instinct bade him hold his blows and strike only to incapacitate. His foes down, the insect fled, seeking the anonymity of shadows to continue his search for his mate. He was halfway up the side of the cavern _*wall*_ when the Queen called out and pleaded with him to stop. He leapt and landed in front of her. Staring into her eyes, he could hear her, in his head, pleading with him. He reached out with one blue-black hand and stroked her cheek. She called to some part of him that ached to answer, but she was not his mate. _Cam_. The one with blue eyes and a ready smile who made him feel warm and loved. He raced away to continue his search even as she called to him to stop.

He ran past the hunter with the wild hair then felt a burst of energy strike his flank before darkness enveloped him.

0o0o0o0o0o0o0

He woke suddenly to a world of confusion – the human side of his being said the colors and sounds were normal, but the Iratus said they were wrong. And the insect was winning. The human side understood what the mission was; that it was his last chance to return to what he was. The insect had no problem with raiding another hive’s nest. If the other nest suffered, there was less competition for its own offspring. Container of eggs in hand, he ran. He had to get away from the nest that smelled wrong, from the beings that sounded wrong, from the things that were wrong. The red energy enveloped him once again and stole his consciousness away.

0o0o0o0o0o0o0

Pain. Flares of pain sparkled along nerves that didn’t know how to deal with them anymore as his very structure changed again. Voices sounded from beyond the curtain segregating him from the rest of the population. If he focused through the pain, he could put names to the voices.

“The retrovirus treatment is proceeding well. His bone density is at the high end of the scale for a man his age, but not excessively so and the scales are shedding at an acceptable rate.”

“Is he lucid?”

“He's been drifting in and out. He responds to simple commands but hasn't spoken yet.”

“May we see him?”

“Not right now. I'm trying to keep him calm and stress free.”

“Carson, you said the treatment was going well, and it’s been six days, so why not? Is your voodoo not having the desired effect?”

“To be honest, I'm still having a wee bit of trouble with his pain management. One of the first changes the Iratus retrovirus made was to his nervous system and pain receptors. This means that he didn't feel the pain of the subsequent changes. Unfortunately, that was also the first thing to revert.”

“So he's lying there, alone and in pain.”

“Yes, Elizabeth, he is. I've got him on the strongest painkiller I can use. Sometimes it works for eight hours, but other times it will only work for three or four. Speaking of which, I need to check on the lad.”

0o0o0o0o0o0o0

Carson moved towards the private room where Colonel Sheppard currently resided. He knew there was a parade behind him, each member anxious to see the Colonel. He spun outside his alcove and faced the group as he donned a mask and gown. “You can look from here.”

Rodney stepped back, his eyes rolling wildly. “Why are you putting on a mask? Is he contagious?” His hands started fluttering as he checked for signs of illness. “Oh god, he’s contagious and you didn’t want to tell us and now we’re all gonna turn into bug things and …”

Carson rolled his eyes. “Hush, Rodney. The Colonel _can_ hear you. According to my tests, the change gave him heightened senses. How much of that will remain has yet to be determined.”

“You still didn’t answer my question: is he contagious?”

Carson shook his head. “This is a precaution. The retrovirus also affected his immune system. The last thing he needs is to get sick. Which is why all of ye are stayin’ out here.”

“But …” Rodney began.

Elizabeth rested a restraining hand on Rodney’s arm. “Rodney, I know you want to visit, but there will be time for that later.”

“Aye,” Carson agreed. “Like after his system stabilizes and he’s awake and bored. Then the lot o’ ye will have yer hands full keepin’ him occupied. You know how moody he gets during long infirmary stays.”

“We could send him to Earth and let Mitchell take care of him,” Rodney said. “Surely the leader of SG-1 could keep one recuperating Lieutenant Colonel out of trouble.”

“No, Rodney. Absolutely not. I’ll not inflict Colonel Sunshine on Colonel Mitchell. I like him.”

“What?! Yeah Carson, go right ahead and keep it up. Don’t call me next time the scanner locks up because one of your minions touched the wrong controls.”

Carson stepped through the entry but paused halfway and turned. “I don’t call you anyway. I get Radek or Miko to fix it. They are happy to do so.”

Carson shut out Rodney’s spluttering and focused on his patient. “Well, Colonel, how are we today?”

His question was rewarded with a dazed blink and a loose-fisted thumbs down.

“That poorly? Well, I can remedy that.” He administered the next dosage of pain meds and watched as they took effect. “Would you like something to eat?”

Carson waited to see if he would get an answer. Sheppard blinked still slit-pupiled eyes then rolled his dark head on the pillow. Swollen lips parted to allow a very human looking pink tongue to dart out.

“Th…ir…sssty.”

Carson’s heart skipped a beat in joy at the barely audible statement. That was the first word Sheppard had uttered in over a week. “Ice chips alright?” he asked as he reached for a cup.

“Ssss.”

Carson spooned a few in and observed the Colonel as he let them melt. Sheppard, as well as many of his other patients, had referred to the pieces of frozen water as little slivers of heaven. Seeing the rapture on Sheppard’s changed features, he could believe it. He fed him another spoon of ice and repeated until he fell asleep.

“Sleep well, lad.”

0o0o0o0o0o0o0

Rodney was watching through a part in the curtains when Ronon grabbed him and turned him away from his inspection of their team leader and friend.

“Who's this Mitchell person that you want to send Sheppard to?”

At his side, Teyla frowned at the unfamiliar name. “I wish to know as well. John has never mentioned anyone by that name.”

Rodney jerked away and straightened his jacket. “Watch it, Conan or you'll be taking cold showers for the next three months.”

Ronon shrugged. “Wouldn't be anything new. I hadn't had a hot bath in years before I came here.”

Rodney was appalled but kept it tucked away. “Mitchell is Sheppard's …um, a little help here, Elizabeth?”

Elizabeth shook her head and smiled. “You brought him up now you get to explain him.”

“Sheppard and Mitchell are close. Really close.”

“So, they are friends then?” Teyla asked.

Rodney seized on her terminology. “Yes, friends. Very close friends. The kind of friends who look out for each other in sickness and health, ‘till death do you part, that kind of thing.”

Rodney could see Teyla and Ronon mulling over what he'd said. He'd probably just horribly confused them, but he didn't feel it was appropriate to blurt out that Sheppard was gay in the middle of the infirmary.

Ronon nudged Teyla. “He's trying to say that they're shield mates.”

“Ah. That makes sense,” Teyla said. “That is that thing that you do not speak of, correct?”

“Just the American military. They are so backwards sometimes. My own country of Canada is much more progressive.”

“It is not an issue in the Stargate Program,” Elizabeth wanted to make it clear. “General O’Neill is very firm in that respect. We are dealing with alien cultures from hundreds of different planets, people with different cultures, not to mention the Asgard, the Tok’ra and the Tollan. If someone has a problem with this, then they’re not fit to work in the Program.”

“However, as you both know very well, John is very private and would hate to be the object of rumors and gossip. He also lives with prejudices every day, so I imagine he’s very hesitant about telling anyone about his relationship with Mitchell.”

“I don’t think anyone aside from SG1, Carson, Elizabeth, and I know… Well, and now you two,” Rodney added.

“We will respect his privacy then,” Teyla said solemn. “I also wish to know more about these prejudices you spoke of, Elizabeth. Someday you must explain them to me.”

“I’ll do my best.”

0o0o0o0o0o0o0

John Sheppard was happy as he sauntered through the corridors of Atlantis. He was free of the infirmary and, according to the results Carson had shown him, one hundred percent himself again. There were a few leftover percent points, but Carson assured him those wouldn't show on Earth equipment.

He'd found Teyla and apologized for his behavior. He'd never admit it, but he found Teyla attractive, and knew the reciprocal was true for her. If he hadn't met Cam, he'd be very interested in her. Too shy to actually ask her out, but definitely interested. He also knew he had scared her slightly as she had never expected him to act on his interest, let alone so forcefully.

John also needed some space. During his chat with Teyla, he’d picked up her thoughts. That’s how he knew she was interested. He recalled the exercises Kate had recommended to Teyla to block the Wraith and decided to put them to use. If he could sense her thoughts, she could possibly sense his, but, more importantly, the Wraith could get in as well. He shuddered in remembrance. The last thing he needed was a Wraith Queen prowling through his mind.

Thankfully, all he’d need to do was practice and modify the shields he had in place to block the feeds from some of the Ancient devices. Without his shields, some of the devices were overpowering in their eagerness and he’d suffered more than one splitting headache until he’d gotten his shields right. That those same shields were effective against Wraith was a bonus.


	2. Babylon

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Welcome all and Happy Holidays! I'm glad y'all are loving this story, makes me an' the guys so happy!  
> Special thanks to DorothyOz for wielding her red pen on this story and for offering suggestions when I get stuck! If you haven't already read The Kirk Myth or another of her stories, you should do so. They're great!

AN: Some dialogue taken from the transcript of “Babylon” found on GateWorld.

0o0o0o0o0o0o0

Colonel Cameron Mitchell let out a sigh of relief as he stepped through the Gate. The blue spots, abrupt mood swings and excessive hunger of four weeks ago had baffled the doctors. He’d been correct in his hunch that something … extreme had happened to John, but his mate was being exceedingly close-lipped about it. All he’d said on their last talk was that they’d talk about it the next time they were together. He’d been afraid for John, but now he knew that he was healthy again. Whatever had happened had passed and he could focus his concentration on his work.

When Cam inadvertently asked him if there had been any news of Ford, John’s mask slipped and momentarily revealed his feelings of impotence at the situation. John had described the ill-fated mission in short, terse sentences that revealed as much as they hid to someone who knew him well. Mindful of the emotional rollercoaster John sometimes rode, Cam changed the subject and asked him about the Aurora. The sheer longing as John described the ship in its heyday made Cam want to find him one. Hopefully, one day the Ancient database would spit out the location of the Ancient’s shipyards then he’d get to see it firsthand. He only realized after the Gate shut down that John hadn’t mentioned the Wraith infiltrator. Oh well, he’d find out when they met on vacation.

Today, work meant looking for a mythical lost Jaffa civilization. They were going to a world that Teal’c believed was home of the Sodan, an ancient sect of Jaffa who had stayed free from Goa’uld influence. The mission was for SG1 and SG22 to see if they could open relations with the Sodan as they would be powerful allies in the fight against the Ori. They were also tasked with finding out how the Sodan had avoided Goa’uld domination and see if it was something they could use on other worlds.

0o0o0o0o0o0o0

“Fall back to the Gate. I’ve got our six. Go, go, go!” Cam yelled as blasts from staff weapons fell around them like rain. His team moved past, firing heavily as they retreated. Determined to give them time to escape, Cam planted his feet, the lone guard on the path.

“Where the hell are they?”

A scuff sounded behind him and Cam turned to greet the butt end of a small staff weapon with his face.

On the ground, Cam rolled and raised his P90, but the Sodan shot it from his grip. Cursing softly, Cam wobbled to his knees, drew his pistol and aimed before he’d settled into a solid stance. Suddenly, a fist of flame crashed into his side and he fell back with a pained cry.

Eyes watering from the pain, Cam looked up to see the Sodan that shot him standing over him, staff weapon pointed at his head, a smile of triumph on his dark-skinned face.

_“Cameron, what’s your position?”_

Cam tuned Sam out. He had bigger things to worry about. The pain in his side was growing, stealing his breath. A surge of energy flooded his system and Cam kicked out, sending the warrior flying. Cam regained his feet at the same time as his opponent. They staggered across the small clearing, trading blows. Cam cried out as the Sodan punched his injured side.

The Sodan took advantage of Cam’s distraction to slip behind him and wrap a meaty arm across his throat in a choke-hold. Gasping for breath, Cam pushed backward until the Jaffa slammed into a tree. The warrior gasped as Cam drove the point of his elbow into his unprotected midsection. When the Sodan’s grip loosened, Cam wriggled free and dropped to his knees. Crawling forward, Cam snatched the fallen staff weapon, trained it on its previous owner and fired.

Cam had the satisfaction of seeing the proud warrior fall before the ground rose to meet him. Weak from pain and blood loss, Cam imagined that he could see John standing nearby and decided to say his goodbye. “John, I love you an’ I’m sorry,” he whispered as darkness enfolded him in its grasp.

0o0o0o0o0o0o0

Rustling announced the arrival of a group of Sodan. One knelt at the side of the fallen warrior and checked his wound. “His wound is grave, my Lord. His symbiote is badly damaged and will not survive.”

Another stooped to check on Cam. He held out a small, pearlescent device. “There is still spark within this one. If we hurry he may be saved.”

The warrior lunged for the dying Cam, but was stopped by another.

“Jolan! No! Bring him.”

Jolan swallowed his anger and carried out the orders of his leader. He had no idea what Haikon had in store for the pale skinned man, but he would have his vengeance.

The sounds of booted feet grew closer and Jolan knew it was time to go. He activated the device on his wrist then he and the other warrior faded from view with their prize.

“Halt! Drop your weapons!”

Haikon nodded at his warriors. “Shal kree.”

At his command, the troop faded from view, leaving the body of their dying comrade and the bewildered members of SG-22 in the small clearing.

0o0o0o0o0o0o0

Cam woke, aware of the gnawing pain in his side and a wrongness in his soul, to see two Sodan standing over him. He could tell that they’d bound his wound, but he could feel the blood soaking into the bandages.

“Haikon, he will be dead by sunset, if not sooner.”

“Then you must keep him alive, Jolan.”

Consciousness faded before Cam could find out why he had to live.


	3. Bereft

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Happy New Year everyone! Sorry for the long delay, but RL intruded in a big way. Thanks go out to all of you for your support. Big thanks to DorothyOz for her support in this endeavor! Now, I recommend having a tissue box nearby as this portion is rather rough. I based much of John's response on the loss of my own husband almost two years ago.  
> So, tissues at hand? Read on, my friends ...

John stepped through the Gate and paused to put his aviators on. The bright, Pangolan sunlight was a bit intense when coming from a Lantean night. The Pangolan delegation was already present and eager to escort them to the Temple of Asheera. Throughout the negotiations, John had been curious as to whom the Temple was named for before he stepped foot in it, and rightly so. His team had been told, both politely and not so politely, not to return on several worlds because of his Ancient gene. There were also several worlds he didn’t go to because the inhabitants kept trying to worship him.

John had been relieved to discover that Asheera was the first ruler of a unified Pangol. Before his rule, the villages had lost as many to infighting as the Wraith took during a culling. Asheera had, through diplomacy and force, brought the bickering groups together under one ruler. He had also been the one to discover the Ancient outpost that he called a temple. He was not worshiped, but the temple was a place of refuge and to settle disputes.

Nearing the Temple, John could feel the Ancient technology reaching out, his blood singing in answer. The stairs to the temple porch lit as he neared, many of their escort exclaiming at the sight.

At the top, all but a few of the natives drifted away. Those few natives that stayed accompanied the team deeper into the Temple. Behind a thick, ornate door that would only open to John’s super gene, they found a room similar to Atlantis’ Chair Room. A Command Chair sat in the middle of the room on a raised dais while consoles and displays ringed the room. A long bench sat at the base of the dais on the opposite side from the door.

Rodney darted from display to display making noises that bordered on obscene. Looking around, John noted that Teyla was outside speaking with the village Shaman. Ronon had taken up post by the door, lounging in a way that only an idiot would read as unprepared.

“Sheppard, you need to touch this one to initialize the consoles,” Rodney said.

“Why? They’ll come on when I get in the Chair.”

Rodney huffed. “Because I need to run diagnostics on the Chair. It hasn’t been used in over 10,000 years.”

John shrugged and ambled over. “From the hermetic seal this room had, everything should be fine,” John said as he touched the right panel.

“Yes, well, it’s your brain. I’m sure that parasitic Tribble won’t notice if you get brain damage.”

“Fine, fine. Do what you need to. I’m going to stretch out on this bench.”

John took off his pack and lay down, arms crossed over his abdomen. The bench was long enough to accommodate his six-foot frame. He closed his eyes and drifted off, strangely soothed by McKay’s mutters. Halfway between waking and sleep, John’s mind conjured a verdant forest with sparse undergrowth. In his dream, he was walking with Cam and his team. Listening to Cam as he did a credible imitation of Teal’c brought a smile to John’s face. The smile fell when a group of warriors appeared from nowhere. John hit the ground, but the warriors ignored his presence just as Cam and the others had.

A silent observer, John watched as Cam stood his ground to cover his team as they headed for the Gate. He could see that it rankled Teal’c to retreat instead of fighting, but he was guarding Daniel and Sam, plus he would be in position to cover Cam’s retreat.

When one of the warriors attacked Cam, John cursed the fact that he was in a dream. His mate needed his help. He shared Cam’s pain when he was hit by the undersized staff weapon, the pain echoing through their bond. With the pain came the belief that, on some level of reality, he was present in that lush forest while also being in a temple in Pegasus.

John watched as Cam struggled against the Jaffa. He willed strength to Cam as he flagged from his wounds. John sent one last burst of energy and Cam used it to snatch the fallen staff weapon up and turn it on his owner. Cam fell shortly after his opponent did and, for the first time in this weird dream, looked directly at John.

_“John, I love you an’ I’m sorry.”_

John screamed as the silver cord that bound their essences together snapped.

0o0o0o0o0o0o0

Ronon was bored. He hated standing around doing nothing, and these scientific missions were boring. Still, he kept his attention on his surroundings as he knew Sheppard was depending on him. Teyla was good, but while she had a warrior spirit, she did not have the training that he and Sheppard did. Two nights ago, he’d asked Sheppard about his role on this type of mission and his new taskmaster … commander had been very open about expectations.

He was to keep his eyes open and watch for Wraith and unfriendly natives. During regular science missions, he would patrol the boundaries with Teyla and Sheppard, but during the rare mission where Sheppard was needed to operate technology of the Ancestors, Ronon’s job would be to watch over him.

He noted the faint blue glow that emanated from the bench when Sheppard touched it, but thought nothing of it until he let out a low moan. He moved closer as Sheppard started sweating heavily and was standing over him when he released a blood chilling scream. The scream pulled McKay from his raptures with the consoles and brought Teyla and a handful of Pangolans at a run.

When the scream ended, Sheppard went into convulsions and flopped off the bench. Ronon captured his head and cradled it so he didn’t get a concussion, but there was nothing else he could do. The spasms seemed to last forever but in reality, less than two minutes passed.

“We need a jumper. He needs medical attention. Who knows what happened to him?” McKay yelled. “Someone needs to run to the Gate.”

Teyla shed her pack and placed it near Sheppard’s head. “I shall go.”

From his time with Melena, Ronon knew time was short. “No. I’ll go.”

McKay knelt by Sheppard’s side and checked his pulse. “I don’t care who goes, but they need to go now.”

Ronon exchanged a look with Teyla. She nodded her acquiescence and he took off. He flew along the path to the Ring … Gate, his long legs eating up the distance. Reaching his destination, he took a moment to collect his thoughts then dialed Atlantis and entered his code.

“Atlantis, we need a jumper. Sheppard’s hurt.”

_“Acknowledged, Ronon. Stand by.”_

He was already standing by the dialing device. What else did they want him to stand by? He shook his dreadlocked head. These Earthers made no sense sometimes.

 _“Ronon, Doctor Beckett needs to speak with you concerning Colonel Sheppard.”_ A rustling sounded through his radio. _“Ronon, what happened to the Colonel?”_

“He was laying on a bench while McKay did his thing then he screamed and started convulsing. He fell off the bench. I held his head until he stopped.”

 _“Did he wake up or say anything afterward?”_ Beckett asked.

“No.”

_“Is he still breathing?”_

“Was when I left.” On a hunch, Ronon keyed his radio over to the team channel. “Teyla, Sheppard still breathing?”

_“Yes, but I believe he is getting worse. Please tell Carson to hurry.”_

He switched back. “Teyla says he’s getting worse.”

_“The jumper is on its way. We need to shut down the Gate for the jumper to transit.”_

The transmission cut off then the Gate winked out. After a moment’s pause, the chevrons lit once more and the water burst forth. The sleek nose of the jumper slid out a heartbeat later. The craft lowered and the ramp dropped. Ronon hopped aboard as soon as he had clearance. With him aboard, the jumper rose.

“Ronon, where are they?” Major Lorne asked from the pilot’s chair.

“The Ancient outpost.”

Lorne leaned forward and manipulated a control. “Got it. We’ll be there shortly.”

0o0o0o0o0o0o0

Carson Beckett stepped back to check the monitors surrounding his patient once more. Colonel Sheppard’s blood pressure was still in the basement, and his white cell count was up, but there were no visible injuries. Thankfully the heart arrhythmia had corrected itself before he’d had to resort to a pacemaker. Suddenly it dawned on him. The soul bond. The answer had been staring him in the face the entire time, but he needed to verify it. He called over one of the orderlies and they wheeled the Colonel to the big Ancient scanner. For this, he didn’t trust any of the smaller units.

Carson and the orderly transferred John, no, Sheppard to the scanner platen. He had to think of him as Sheppard or Colonel right now, anything else would cause him to lose focus. He started the scanner and let it do a full body scan before switching to a brain scan. Once again, the full scan came back clean of injury. The brain scan presented the problem in full color. Now he just had to treat it.

0o0o0o0o0o0o0

Three hours later, after a search of the Ancient database and some quick work by the pharmacy, Colonel Sheppard was stable. Now he had to face the group in the waiting room.

Carson stepped through the doorway and was the target of five pairs of eyes. He dropped onto the nearest of the cushioned benches with a thud. “Well, he’s alive.”

Rodney set his laptop aside and stared. “That’s it, that’s all you can tell us?”

“Rodney, please,” Elizabeth said as she placed a restraining hand on his arm. “Let Carson marshal his thoughts and he’ll tell us how John is.”

Carson took a drink of his coffee. “Thank you, Elizabeth. I’m going to be blunt. I had to put Colonel Sheppard into a drug-induced coma. His body is fine, but there is swelling in one area of his brain and a small bleed in another.”

Rodney paled. “I thought you said his body is fine. That is not fine! Did he have a stroke?”

Carson shook his head. “No. A stroke would leave spots of dead tissue in the brain. Both the bleed and swelling are in an area of the brain that humans don’t use, but that the Ancients did.”

Elizabeth frowned. “Carson, what are you telling us?”

“Colonel Sheppard is suffering from what the Ancients called _iugum solitudo_ – bond deprivation. I’m hoping that the small bleed will resolve without surgery.”

“What does this mean for John?” Teyla asked.

“The bond deprivation means something serious has happened to Colonel Mitchell. We’ll have to contact Earth to find out. The bleed is most likely a side effect of their bond breaking. I’m going to do some more research and see if the Ancients left any further insight into the Colonel’s wee problem.”

0o0o0o0o0o0o0

_John was falling. Air rushed around his body but refused to support him no matter how he twisted. Flailing, he turned onto his back. He didn’t want to see the ground rushing up at him._

_A hint of wrongness pinged his consciousness, and he looked around._

_Where was his parachute? It should be flapping above him, but there was no canopy, no paracord trailing past his head. No weight on his shoulders dragging him down._

_Nothing._

_Except for a shining silver cord that seemed to be anchored deep in his heart, its ragged end fluttering in the winds of a clear blue sky the same color as Cam’s eyes._

_John closed his eyes against the grief that threatened to swallow him and waited for the end to come._

0o0o0o0o0o0o0

Teyla settled in the comfortable chair by the bed and watched its occupant sleep. She had rushed into the control room on Pangol when John screamed, arriving in time to see him thrash off the bench and Ronon cradle his head as he convulsed. She had kept watch over him as Ronon ran for the Gate, anxious to be able to help her friend while knowing in her heart that there was nothing she could do except offer comfort.

John moaned and shifted restlessly in his drugged sleep. Carson had decided to keep John sedated to allow his body to heal. It was terrible that the same could not be said of his heart. She stood and moved to his side to soothe him. Carson and Kate had recommended talking to him, saying people found it comforting. Rodney had embraced the idea and told John of his day during his watches. She thought Ronon was telling John stories of his time as a Runner, but she was uncertain as no one could catch him.

For herself, she told him of events in the city interspersed with tales of her people. But, for those times when he grew restless, reaching for someone that was not there, she would sing to him the lullabies that were old before Athos fell. This was going to be one of those times. She began to sing and brushed his hair back where it had fallen forward. He calmed as her song rang out and she segued from one to another, but this time, the second was different. The second song was a prayer to the Ancestors for everything to turn out alright.

0o0o0o0o0o0o0

Hearing returned first as the dark fog receded. With resumed consciousness came awareness of a body that ached and a hole in his soul that could never be filled.

“Why isn’t he waking up?”

“As I told ye yesterday Rodney, the Colonel has been under sedation for a week. It takes a wee bit o’ time for the drugs to leave his system.” A hand touched his wrist. “Although, knowin’ our Colonel, he should be waking soon.”

John decided to see what had landed him in the infirmary, so he pried his gummy eyelids apart. “Wha…” The rest of his sentence dissolved into coughing as his dry throat protested.

“Easy, Colonel. Here’s some ice for you.” Carson’s brogue was soothing, as were the ice chips that found their way past his lips. “I need the lot of you to wait outside while I examine the Colonel.”

John listened to his team leave while he savored the coolness as the ice melted before trying again. He opened eyes he didn’t remember closing. “What happened?”

“What do you remember?”

John frowned as he prodded his soggy brain into cooperation. “We went to Pangol to fix their temple. I stretched out on a bench. Then I saw Cam …and a Jaffa … fighting. He’s ...” He stopped and ducked his head as tears he refused to shed choked him.

A warm hand patted his shoulder and John peered up into Carson’s blue eyes.

“I’m sorry, lad. That’s what I guessed based on your reactions. You’ve had a rough go of it lately, and I want you to take it easy.” Carson glanced down at his friend. “Do you want your team back?”

“No. I … just no,” John told him, his voice rough with checked emotion.

“I understand. Get some rest lad.” Carson stepped through the curtains and John heard him sending his team away. He was too raw and had no reserves to deal with them. He reached out and lowered the lights around his bed before laying back and slipping into slumber.

0o0o0o0o0o0o0

John woke from a restless sleep to find Kate perched by his bed. Shit. The one person he didn’t want to talk to.

“Colonel, I’m glad to see you awake,” Kate said with a small smile.

“No.”

A frown appeared on Kate’s face, and she leaned in to place a gentle hand on his arm. “Dr. Beckett asked that I stop by to see you. He told me what happened.”

John pushed upright and glared at the psychologist. He knew she was here to help, but he was not ready to talk to her. His wounds were too fresh, too raw and having someone want to poke at them made him want to break something.

John sat up and narrowed his eyes. “Let me ask you something. You’re trained to handle grief, but have you ever experienced it for yourself? Have you ever experienced the hollowness of losing a mate or a parent?”

“No, but that doesn’t mean I can’t empathize.”

Her rote answer infuriated him, and he let it show. He was tired of hiding how he felt. “How can you when you’ve never felt it? If you’ve never felt the pain of having your heart ripped out, then how can you say that you know how I feel?”

She straightened and looked at him squarely. “I’m trained to understand grief and its manifestations. The anger you’re displaying is part of it. You’re angry at the world for taking Colonel Mitchell away from you, and you’re upset that you couldn’t do anything to stop it.”

John felt the anger recede, leaving an icy calm in its wake. “Cam was doing his job when it happened,” he said coolly. “I’m angry at his team for not watching his back. I’m mad at the Jaffa that shot him.” He eased forward, and she leaned in closer. He tilted his head down to look her square in the eye. “But you know what makes me angrier? It’s people that tell me they understand how I feel. The empty platitudes and hollow words of sympathy make me sick.”

Kate slid back, concern on her face at his vehemence. “Colonel, we do that to let you know that you aren’t alone. To let you know that we understand that you’re going through a difficult time and don’t have to face it on your own.”

He leaned in closer and let her see the loneliness, pain, and cold anger in his eyes. “I am alone. It’s like being told you can’t sit by the fire anymore, but hey, here’s a book of matches to keep you warm.” He leaned back and rolled away from her. “Just … go away.”

He heard the rustle as she stood. “No matter what you think, you’re not alone. Remember, my door is always open, Colonel.” Footsteps receded as she left.

“I am alone, and I’ll always be alone,” he whispered as he fell into a fitful sleep.

0o0o0o0o0o0o0

John stepped into his quarters and stopped just past the threshold; the door whispering closed behind him. His team had been an almost constant presence during the two days Carson kept him in the infirmary after he’d awakened and had wanted to accompany him back to his quarters, but he had brushed them off, saying that he was just going to be sleeping. In truth, he doubted he’d be doing much sleeping from now on.

Carson had released him to light duty on the condition that he show up once a day for a scan. The Scot was worried about the brain bleed he’d had and wanted to make sure it didn’t reappear.

He stripped off the clothes he’d left the infirmary in and headed for the bathroom. He hated the smell of antiseptics even though they were comforting when he woke up smelling them. Standing under the hot water, he allowed his mind to wander as his hands moved to clean him. It was only when they reached a certain portion of his anatomy that his focus snapped back to reality. Thoughts of the glorious nights he and Cam had spent together flashed through his mind and brought his member to instant readiness. John tried to deny it, but the urge was too insistent. He leaned back against the chill surface of the shower, which heated quickly at the contact, and settled onto a ledge that Atlantis had formed for him. His head dropped back to thump gently against the wall as he closed his eyes and took himself in hand. This one last time, he imagined it was Cam’s calloused fingers running along his length, stroking him from root to tip and rubbing across the sensitive slit at the end.

When his orgasm hit, if there was salty water mixing with his come as it washed down the drain, there were no witnesses to the event.

0o0o0o0o0o0o0

Elizabeth straightened as her door chimed. Walking over, she waved the door open to find Carson and Kate standing before her. She welcomed the pair and stuck her head out to look around. Ronon, Teyla, and Rodney were just exiting the transporter, so she waited for them, letting the door close as the last three arrived.

“Thank you all for coming,” she said as she took a seat.

“Some of us weren’t given a choice,” Rodney said as he glared at Ronon.

“Rodney, hush,” Carson admonished. “This is about the Colonel, correct?”

“Yes. I’m concerned, and I wanted to discuss our options for helping him deal with this.”

“Well, I placed him on light duty, but the Colonel’s latest scans are clean,” Carson said. “The bleed resolved and his brainwaves have settled. There is still a bit more activity in that one section, but it’s nothing harmful. If he weren't grieving, the lad would be chomping at the bit for me to clear him.”

Elizabeth absorbed that then turned to his team. “Has John been spending time with any of you?”

Ronon nodded. “We still run, but he doesn’t say anything.”

Teyla shook her head. “I see him in the halls or the mess, but I have not interacted with him otherwise.”

Rodney leaned forward and poured a mug of coffee, drinking half before answering. “He’s been avoiding me. Usually, when he’s on light duty, I have to pry him out of my lab, but not this time.”

This was troubling. John was cutting himself off from his support system. “Kate?”

“From what little he told me while he was in the infirmary, this is a very deep pain. He displayed a marked intolerance for traditional expressions of sympathy. These would include being told “I understand your grief”, “I know how this must hurt”, and “Is there anything I can get for you or that you need”. Any of these is likely to trigger his rage at the situation.” Kate leaned forward and poured a glass of water. “I do not have any experience with this type of pairing – no one on Earth does. Right now, his world is in turmoil. I cannot force him to see me for grief counseling as long as his behaviors are not self-destructive. Insomnia and lack of appetite are normal manifestations of grief.”

“How would you suggest we deal with this,” Elizabeth asked.

“Let him come to you. When he does, treat him as you did before this happened. A return to normalcy will help settle him. If he does talk to you, don’t judge, just listen. Remind him of the good times he spent with Colonel Mitchell. These will help ease the pain.”

“Thank you, Kate. That is excellent advice,” Elizabeth said. “I would like someone to check on him though.”

“I shall. John will not hurt me and may talk to me.”

“Thank you, Teyla.”

0o0o0o0o0o0o0

Teyla was troubled as she left Elizabeth’s quarters. She had volunteered to face John and see if she could get him to open up. Elizabeth was not believable in the role of comforter nor was Rodney. Kate would only get what he wanted her to hear and nothing else which, after their first session after John awakened, would be little to nothing. Carson was one of the few John would speak with, but he had been avoiding the kind doctor as though he carried a plague.

She knew loss, but soul bonds were the stuff of legend. She had always considered them a romantic embellishment used by storytellers until she found out about John and Cameron. A common theme in many of the stories was that of one-half of the pair dying and the other pining for them until death unless others intervened.

She did not want that fate for her friend. Already he resembled a ghost, pale and drifting through the halls, glimpsed at the edge of vision only to vanish. She headed to his quarters and hesitated only briefly before swiping the crystal to announce her presence. She waited a moment then repeated the motion. The door opened silently before her as her hand returned to her side.

Taking the open door to be an invitation, she crossed the threshold and stopped to let her eyes adjust to the twilight gloom of John’s suite as the doors closed behind her.

0o0o0o0o0o0o0

Bent over his guitar, John heard Teyla enter his quarters. Heck, she wouldn’t have gotten in if he hadn’t let her. He’d figured she’d be the one to beard the lion in its den. When Teyla stopped to listen to the melancholy notes as they floated on the evening air, John figured he’d rather have her where he could see her. “You can come in, Teyla.”

“I did not wish to disturb you.”

“It’s fine. Pull up a pillow.”

Teyla grabbed one of the big floor pillows and settled upon it. John returned to his music, thereby giving Teyla time to study him, knowing she wouldn’t like what she was seeing. He was aware he looked a mess, his normally fluffy hair lay flat near his skull, and there were dark shadows under his eyes.

“John, I want you to know that I understand your grief.”

His long fingers stilled on the steel strings with a discordant crash.

“I want you to know that you are not alone. I lost my mother, my father, people I grew up with. Charin shared an ancient wisdom with me when my father was killed. She told me that when someone you love dies, the sorrow remains always, but that they are always tucked away safely in your heart.”

John bowed his head, refusing to look at her. “But what do you do when your heart is shattered, and there are no safe places?” His voice was low, and he realized Teyla would have to strain to hear him above the crashing waves far below.

“You find a place. Cameron may be gone, but you will always have your memories of him. Those of us who are your friends wish to help you with your loss.”

“Help me with my loss?” A harsh bark of laughter escaped before he could throttle it. “Have you ever lost half of your soul?” He shifted to face her, anger emanating from his core. “No? If you haven’t experienced it, then how the hell can you understand what I’m going through?”

He surged to his feet and moved to stand at the railing, eyes closed and head bowed before he spun to face her once more.

“None of you understand! Not you or Ronon, not Elizabeth, not Carson or Rodney, and not Kate.”

Teyla stood to face him. “John, that is not fair. We have all lost.”

John stepped forward until he towered over her. “No, what’s not fair is that everyone wants to help me, but they’ve never experienced it. Cam was _literally_ half of my very essence. I could close my eyes and feel him, regardless of where he was or what he was doing, and he could do the same. We could feel _everything_ the other did if we chose to. That is gone. There is _nothing_ there now.”

Teyla bowed her head. “John, I … Is there anything you need that is within my ability to get for you?”

He turned away; head bowed once more as his hands gripped the railing. He did not want her to see the tears that were threatening to overwhelm his iron self-control, nor did he want to say something he might regret later. “Teyla, _please,_ just go.”

He could imagine the look on her face. “Very well. But John, please remember that we all care for you and only wish to help. In trying to protect yourself, make certain you do not wall us out.” Her footsteps pattered across the floor, and he stayed in place until his outer door whispered open and shut once again.

_*“They are only trying to help, Chosen.”*_

“I know,” he whispered. “But what I need is the one thing no one can get for me.”

 _*“I have experienced the emptiness of losing those that are part of you.”*_ Atlantis’ voice was calm in his head. _*“But I have also experienced the fulfillment of finding purpose once again.”*_

John moved back to his pillow and settled in the corner. Staring out across the sea with unseeing eyes, he let his memories of the weeks’ spent with Cam wash over him, each bringing pleasure and pain, until exhaustion crept over him and he fell into a fitful sleep.

0o0o0o0o0o0o0

Atlantis watched over her Chosen as he struggled to come to terms with his loss. She could sense the tattered remains of his bond and mourned for what they could have become. Noting that he had succumbed to sleep, she activated a localized shield and set her surfaces to radiate heat so he would not sicken. Taking advantage of the situation, she activated her scanner and ran a check on him. The mind channel had healed nicely. He had a high capacity for _telepathia_ , one that would rival, and possibly surpass, the greatest of her creators, but his grief was blocking the node from becoming active for the present, but she could tell it would not remain so for long.

In preparation for that day, she brought a teaching crystal out of storage and planted it amongst his things near his bed. The crystal was imbued with a gentle compulsion such that he would subconsciously be drawn to it. The compulsion would ensure that it would be in his possession when he needed it, and that he would keep it near until he no longer needed it.

0o0o0o0o0o0o0

Sam Carter did not like failure. That dislike had pushed her to succeed in the male-dominated field of physics then again in the Air Force. Her failure was that she was unable to find her friend, Cameron Mitchell. Cam had gone missing after a botched mission to contact the Sodan.

They’d found one Sodan warrior who had been left behind due to his injuries. It had taken Carolyn Lam hours of surgery to save the man, but his symbiote had not been as fortunate. Their guest, Volnek, was responding well to the tretonin but had so far refused to answer any questions other than stating his name and lineage. When they told him of the Ori, Volnek scoffed at their warnings, saying that they were unworthy.

They were six weeks into their search, and the IOA was getting pushy. Jack had come to the Mountain to be on-hand as the search moved into its second week, and four weeks later, he was beginning to look harried, jumping every time a phone rang in his presence.

Taking a deep breath, she knocked thrice then entered Jack’s office. With him in Washington, they’d finally done what their hearts had demanded and married. The ceremony had been private with only a handful of attendees, but it was official. Jack was leaned back in his chair, eyes closed. “Jack?”

“The IOA has ordered that Mitchell be declared MIA and the search called off,” he said without moving.

Sam was stunned. They’d spent longer searching for lost personnel than this without the IOA complaining.

“Damn penny pinchers!” Jack’s disgust was evident. “I wish there was a way for us to tell them to go fuck themselves.”

Sam sat on the edge of his desk. “We do have the patents to the devices we’ve been able to successfully reverse-engineer, but we don’t have the right civilian contacts. If we go to any of the current DOD contractors, we’ll have to deal with mounds of red tape. And if we start shopping the designs around, we’ll quickly lose control of the situation. What we need is someone with a family connection.”

Jack’s expression changed to one of guarded hope. “I know someone with that background, but the situation is not good. We’ll continue to deal with the IOA, and I’ll keep an eye on the other situation.”

Sam tried to worm more out of Jack, but he refused to divulge any more info. She shelved the idea for another day. “We need to tell Colonel Sheppard.”

Jack bowed his head. “I know, but I’ve been trying to avoid it. This could be the straw that breaks the camel’s back.”

Sam furrowed her brow. “Jack?”

At her question, Jack looked up. “That’s right, you don’t know what happened on Atlantis.”

“No, I haven’t caught up on the reports.”

He straightened and faced her fully. “Sheppard reacted to whatever happened to Mitchell. From his symptoms, Beckett theorized that Mitchell was shot with a staff weapon and that shortly after that, his heart stopped.”

“Oh, my God!”

“Mitchell’s heart stopping, along with whatever that Ancient Obelisk did, was apparently enough to break their bond.” Jack swallowed hard, his gaze settling on a distant point before continuing. “Beckett kept Sheppard sedated until he stabilized. Last report I received, Sheppard is awake, but he’s refusing to talk to Heightmeyer about what happened and is avoiding everyone unless necessary.”

Sam recognized the bleakness in Jack’s eyes. It was the grief that never went away over the loss of his son.

“There’s more, Jack. Cam told me that he’d asked John to be the one to tell his parents if anything happened to him and for him to tell them the truth.”

“Aw, crap.”

0o0o0o0o0o0o0

Elizabeth Weir re-played the video she’d just received and sighed. Couldn’t anything be easy? When the first dial-in from Earth had come four weeks ago, she’d dreaded telling John but had been advised by Carson and Kate not to tell John. They were both concerned for John’s health, so much so that they’d grounded him. Unable to go off-world or even to the mainland, John had taken to haunting the most remote sections of Atlantis he could reach.

The following weeks had seen the same terrible news repeated each time. Each time the reports were exchanged, her spirit soared hoping that there would be good news, but each time she had crashed back to Earth, her hopes crushed.

A knock broke her reverie, and she raised her head to see John hovering in her doorway, face blank, eyes red and haunted, body tense. He knew. Carter or O’Neill had probably sent him a message. She let out a small, cowardly sigh of relief. At least she didn’t have to do it.

“Elizabeth, I …” His voice broke, and he coughed then started over. “Doctor Weir, I need to request a leave of absence to return to Earth to take care of a personal matter.”

“Granted. Dial out is in three hours.” He shifted to leave and Elizabeth decided to see if she could get his shell to crack. “John, is there anything I can do for you? Would you like to talk?”

“No, I’m fine.” He squared his shoulders and gave her a curt nod. “I’ll be ready.”

Elizabeth cursed inwardly as he spun and left. There’d been a flicker in his eyes that prompted her to reach out, but the minute the words left her mouth, his shutters came down.

0o0o0o0o0o0o0

Hands running on automatic to pack, John allowed his mind to wander. His dreams had been strange, and he hadn’t slept well. Jack had kept his word and notified John as soon as the status change was pushed through. Fucking IOA. They’d feel different if they were the ones missing. If he were on speaking terms with his father, he’d give the IOA the biggest fuck you in history and he knew the entirety of the SGC would be with him in expressing the very heartfelt sentiment.

John cleared thoughts of his father from his mind. This trip was going to be hard enough without bringing his family into it.

He heard a whisper of sound as a warm breeze wrapped around him and John had to squeeze his eyes tightly shut to stop the tears. Atlantis had come the closest to breaking the wall he’d put up. She understood his emptiness.

Packing complete, John took a shower and shaved. He knew his friends were worried about his sanity and looking like a wild creature was not helping. He needed to be presentable. It was the least he could do for Cam.

John was in the Gateroom five minutes before the dial out was scheduled. He could feel Elizabeth watching him, but he refused to turn and look for the same reason he hadn’t told his team. He didn’t want to see the sympathy in their eyes. None of them understood how he felt. Not Elizabeth, not his team, and not Kate with all of her degrees. None of them knew how it felt to have a gaping hole in your soul that could never be filled.

The Gate dialed, and they received the all-clear from Earth.

John shouldered his bags and stepped through without a backward glance.


	4. Sodan

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks so much for reading! Sorry my post schedule has not been steady but I am finishing my BS in Criminal Justice. Thanks to all of you who leave kudos and comments are always welcome!
> 
> Big thanks to my beta, DorothyOz for her editing and comments and occasional nudge.

AN: Dialogue taken from SG-1 episode Babylon courtesy of transcript from GateWorld.

Cam eased into the hot water with a sigh and thought about all that had happened. The days had blurred into each other as Cam healed. The wound had become infected and Jolan had not been gentle when cleaning it. Apparently, pain relievers had not been discovered or were frowned upon by the warriors. The whole experience gave a new meaning to grin and bear it.

After his fever broke and Cam had been able to get out of bed, he had started trying to find out where he was and why he’d been brought here. Par for the course, the answers were definitely not to his liking. Jolan had easily disarmed him then informed him that he was free to step through the Chappa’ai at any time. Cam had been ready to set out at that moment, but of course that’s when the other shoe dropped. Jolan had calmly informed him that the journey to the Dor’ta’nak Mountains would take months on foot. If he survived, that is.

He’d gone further and asked how they’d arrived if the journey was so hazardous. He was hoping for a ha’tak or some other aircraft that he could steal, but no such luck. The Eye of the Gods allowed the Sodan to bypass the deadly mountains and the long journey, but was also kept closely guarded.

Then Jolan informed him of his crime. By spilling the blood of a Sodan warrior, he had been saved to participate in the ritual of _kel shak lo_ as atonement.

The first day of _jomo se telek_ , Jolan had taken him out to the practice yard, he had practiced falling properly. By the end of the day, Cam had been so sore that he could hardly move. It took him three days before Jolan was satisfied with his ability. The Sodan could sure teach the Airborne instructors at Fort Benning a thing or two about hand to hand combat. His instructor during those six weeks of hell had declared them proficient after only one and a half days.

A stir in the air currents heralded Jolan’s arrival.

“Why such a heavy sound?”

“I was thinking of my mate and how I’m going to make things right between us.”

Jolan grunted and settled into the water, leaving Cam with his thoughts.

Cam took the opportunity offered to probe at some of the feelings he’d been getting. The deep sense of emptiness that had washed over him after he’d awakened in Jolan’s hut had never gone away. Even now, the tattered streamers of their soul bond throbbed with the memory of the event. Jolan still wouldn’t tell him what had happened, but he had a hunch his heart had stopped at some point, which meant that John had felt it.

Shit.

He was such an idiot. That sense of emptiness was the bond, or lack thereof.

He closed his eyes and entered the first stages of _kel no reem_. He found the silver strands of the bond, but they were tattered as though they’d been ripped apart.

He opened his eyes and peered up into the darkening sky as silent tears flowed down his cheeks.

_John._

0o0o0o0o0o0o0

The days flowed into each other as he practiced against Jolan. Slowly the outcome of their bouts began to shift into unpredictable. Jolan still frequently put him on his ass, but Cam had managed to surprise him and come out victorious.

Then there was the Prior.

While SG-1 had been attacked without warning or provocation, the Prior had been escorted into the village as though he were royalty or actually a God. Cam had tried to tell Jolan that the Ori were bad news, but the warrior would not even let Cam talk to Haikon unless he finished the obstacle course in a reasonable length of time.

His conversation with Haikon had been equally frustrating. The elder Sodan had decided that, even though the Ori were not the Ancients, that they had to be gods. It seemed that centuries of praying to gods that never answered had left the Sodan willing to grasp at straws, so when the first Prior showed up and performed tangible acts of “godliness”, many among the Sodan were willing to kneel to them right then.

Most nights, after training, he discussed the Ori with Jolan. Some nights, the warrior was willing to listen and seemed divided about the Ori. Other nights, Jolan would start ranting about the negligence of the Ancients. On those nights, Cam learned to quickly drop the subject as Jolan would take his frustrations from the previous night out on him during training.

On the Prior’s return trip, Haikon put on his best robes and knelt.

Cam tried to change his mind, but the beatific look on Haikon’s face as he extolled the virtues of the Ori because of their “miracles” told him it was hopeless. After that, he stopped trying to change Jolan’s mind.

Days or weeks later, Cam couldn’t tell, and conversation drifted to Haikon and the Ori once more. “Admit it! Haikon has totally lost his mind.”

Using Cam’s distraction, Jolan pressed his attack until he could have easily killed his opponent. “A warrior cannot talk and fight at the same time. A fact you refuse to accept.”

“Got it.” Cam hefted his _krantu_ staff and dug his heels in, having accepted the rebuke for what it was. Blows fly as the pair spar until the encounter ends in a tie. They cross sticks to signal the end of the match. The children that had watched every day as Cam ate dirt, clapped suitably impressed with the pale stranger.

“You may provide a challenge to your opponent after all, Mitchell,” Jolan said, a hint of pride tingeing his voice.

“Followed by my violent death, of course.”

“Of course.”

Cam shrugged and walked over to the weapon rack. He plucked the skin of tea from its hook, then held it up in a toast. “To my inevitable demise.”

“Why do you do this?”

“Do what?” Cam asked.

“Train this hard. These are the last days of your life. I would think you would spend more time in reflection.”

Cam pondered the Sodan’s question for a moment before answering. “Well, all I know is, the moment you accept your fate, that's when you're as good as dead. Till then, all bets are off.”

“You cannot survive _Kel shak lo_.”

“Well, no offense, but I've endured things I wasn't supposed to survive before, and I'm still here.”

Cam’s curiosity was piqued when Jolan looked around to see who else might be nearby.

“How can you be certain the Prior speaks falsely?” Jolan asked quietly.

Cam planted the butt of his training staff. “Because I've seen entire planets wiped out because they refused to follow the Ori. Look, I'm not trying to tell you what to think, but if everything I believed was being threatened, I'd want to know. Jolan, your people shouldn't suffer for their faith.”

0o0o0o0o0o0o0

The shock of finding out that the warrior he’d shot, Volnek, was Jolan’s brother had brought home the possibility that he could die. He wondered if Jolan would leave his body where Sam and his team could find it, or would his mangled corpse get tossed on the trash heap for the local wildlife to eat.

The day of the fight, Cam was determined to do his best. Jolan was good, but Cam was in the best shape he’d ever been in. The match started off fine with each trading blows and kicks as they parried and feinted with their krantu staffs. Cam’s held his own until Jolan caught him with the krantu’s blades. Pain burned in his leg and his vision grew dim as he stumbled to his feet and tried to continue. His hands grew numb and Jolan was able to knock the double-bladed staff from his hands with ease.

Unyielding wood against Cam’s neck told him where Jolan was as his world dimmed to nothing.


	5. Earth

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Today is a bonus day. Since C.4 is so short, y'all get a double!

John stepped onto the steel ramp deep inside Cheyenne Mountain, his footsteps ringing, and the Gate closed behind him with a whoosh. The Marine guards backed off as General Landry approached the foot of the ramp.

John saluted when he neared the General.

“Colonel Sheppard, welcome back,” Landry said as he returned the salute. “I’m sorry it had to be under these circumstances.”

John swallowed hard as he reined his emotions. He hadn’t done more than glance at the four people standing behind Landry. “Thank you, Sir.”

“Infirmary first then we’ll meet,” Landry said before he turned and left.

“Yes Sir.” John settled his bags on his shoulder as he stepped off the ramp.

0o0o0o0o0o0o0

John cleared his check-up then made his way to the meeting with Landry. He stepped into the conference room to find Landry and two other people waiting. One was a woman in dress uniform while the male sported an expensive three-piece suit.

“Colonel, have a seat,” Landry said. He gestured to the woman seated on his right. “This is Major Snider, and,” he indicated the man, “Mr. Faasii of the IOA. Major Snider has a few things for you and Mr. Faasii insisted on being present.”

John narrowed his eyes and examined the pair. According to her awards, Snider had seen action even though she was a desk jockey now. Faasii, on the other hand, was a mid-level boot licker who threw his patron’s name around to get what he wanted. “Why are you here?”

“I’m here to see that the IOA’s orders are carried out,” Faasii said.

“And what orders would those be?” John asked over steepled fingers.

“That no more funds be spent to recover Colonel Mitchell. The amount that has been spent so far is excessive in our eyes to search for one man,” Faasii said as he checked his nails.

John clasped his hands in front of him on the table so he wouldn’t leap across the table and punch the officious slug. From the looks on their faces, Landry and Snider would probably join in. “So, if it was your wife missing, you’d be fine with us calling off the search because a bean-counter said so.”

“What, no, of course not!” Faasii said, hands waving in agitation. “But Colonel Mitchell is not your husband.”

John took a deep breath and released it slowly. Getting thrown in the brig for murder was not on his to-do list. “Colonel Mitchell is my partner and next of kin as I am his. He is only not my husband because of the rules prohibiting same sex couples from marrying while both are serving.”

Faasii waved a manicured hand. “That makes no difference.”

“It makes all the difference,” John told him calmly. “But for today, your presence is no longer welcome.” He drew his .45 and laid it on the table with a click, the barrel pointing towards Faasii. “Now get out of my face.”

Faasii puffed up as he stood. “You can’t threaten me! I know powerful people!”

“Really?” John said with a smile that didn’t reach his eyes. “I do too. And my people will help me get rid of your bullet-riddled corpse while yours will decide it's too expensive to look for you.”

Faasii took one look at Landry and Snider then left as fast as he could. Landry smiled and Snider had to stifle her laughter. John smirked at both of them as he replaced his pistol in its holster.

“Thank you, Colonel. That made my day,” Snider said.

“Glad I could brighten someone’s day.”

Snider bent over and retrieved her briefcase from the floor. She pulled three manila envelopes from it then shut it and set it aside. “I’ve reviewed Colonel Mitchell’s Will and the statement of Last Request he had on file. You and his parents were his only heirs. In a case such as this, you will share responsibility for managing his properties with his parents until he is found or declared dead.”

John took the envelope and set it aside. It was too much right now.

“His Last Request was granted. I know he asked that you make the Visit to his parents to notify them of his passing. If you need one, a Chaplain will be happy to accompany you. His request for disclosure has also been approved.” She held up the other two envelopes. “These are the NDA’s that they’ll need to sign. You’ll also be furnished with a secure flash drive loaded with the standard briefing.”

Landry stood to signify the end of the meeting. Snider shook John's hand.

“It's been a pleasure to meet you, Colonel Sheppard. I only wish it had been under better circumstances.”

“Thanks. General?”

Landry nodded and gestured. “Go on, son. Go get some rest.”

0o0o0o0o0o0o0

Jack waited until John had been through medical and the meeting Landry insisted on holding. For crying out loud, he had suggested that the meeting at least wait until the ink was dry on the order.

Due to a last minute conference call with the Secretary of the Air Force, John had a four-hour head start before Jack started trying to find him. He checked the most obvious place first, which was the couple’s quarters. John had been there, as evidenced by the crumpled set of Lantean grays in one corner, but the man himself was no longer there.

He was about to leave when he thought to check the drawer where Cam kept his keys. The set with the F16 was missing. Crap. Now John would be harder to find. He picked up the phone and dialed Daniel’s office. Thankfully, Sam answered so he didn't have to explain twice. “Is the transmitter still active on Mitchell’s car?”

“I believe so. John left?” Jack appreciated that she caught on instantly.

“He did.” Keys rattled in the background as Sam accessed the GPS system.

“The car is at Cam’s apartment. Do you want us to accompany you?”

“Nope. He's hurting and angry. Even though Mitchell’s disappearance was not your fault, the three of you would be convenient targets.” He heard a sigh come through the line.

“We understand. It’s just …”

“Hey, I know it’s a team thing. Been there, done that, remember? But even though Sheppard sees you as friends, you’re not his team. Trust that I do know what I’m talking about and let me handle it.”

“Okay. Call if you need us,” Sam said before she hung up.

Jack made another call then climbed into his Jeep and headed into town. A couple of stops later, he rolled up to Cam’s apartment and parked next to his classic Mustang. Reaching in, he unloaded the items for his GP therapy then climbed the stairs to his destination. He set the 12 pack of Guinness on the floor to free a hand then knocked hard three times. He waited a minute then repeated the knock. A muffled thump sounded from within so Jack decided to let himself in with the key Cam had given him shortly after SG1 got back together.

Jack picked up the Guinness then stepped inside and nudged the door shut with his foot. “John? It’s Jack. I brought pizza and beer.” He took the left to the kitchen and set his burdens down. The beer went in the fridge and he set the pizza on the counter.

He spun to leave the kitchen to look for John and staggered back. Standing in the doorway was the target of his search wearing faded blue jeans and an Air Force sweatshirt with an odd stain on it that Jack recognized as belonging to Cam. Damn, he must be losing his touch – it had been ages since anyone snuck up on him. “I brought pizza. And beer.” He noticed the empty bottle in John’s hand. “Although I see you started without me.”

“Why did they leave him?”

Jack was silent as he considered his answer. “They didn’t leave him. I know that Cam ordered them to fall back and get reinforcements. He was supposed to be right behind them.”

“Then why isn’t he here?” John tossed the bottle in his hand in the trash.

“I don’t know. I do know that he wouldn’t want you playing the blame game,” Jack said. “I’ve been where you are. I’ve lost someone that left a hole in my heart that can never be filled. That’s why I bought my cabin. I didn’t want to be close to anyone, but all I was doing was shutting everyone out. Charlie wouldn’t have wanted me to live like that and Cam wouldn’t want that for you.” Jack straightened and faced John. “Let go of the anger before it eats you. It’s okay to shed the tears, whether you let anyone else see or not.”

“I don’t know how.” John’s whisper nearly broke Jack’s heart. “My father taught me and my brother that it wasn’t manly to cry. He beat me once when I was six because he caught me crying over one of the dogs getting killed. I’ve forgotten how to cry. When I found out my mother had died, I went out and got drunk.”

“Perfect! It just so happens that I came over to get you drunk. Grab a box and I’ll get us a couple of brews. We’ll turn on the DVR and watch some football.”

Sheepishly, John peered over his shoulder towards the living room. “Denver and Indianapolis. Broncos are ahead by two touchdowns.”

That explained the thud from earlier. John must have dropped the remote and stumbled trying to find it.

John picked up a pizza and shambled back to the living room. Jack opened the fridge to grab two Guinness and found three loose bottles one shelf up. He took two of those and joined John on the couch. He opened the pizza box, took a slice and shoved another in John’s hand. “Eat. You need to soak up the alcohol.”

John took the slice and nibbled on it, apparently unsure if it would stay down. When it didn’t return, he ate with more gusto.

Jack sipped his beer as he watched John. Their conversation ranged from topic to topic with no pattern except that John grew increasingly morose. To break the chain, Jack started telling the stories behind some of SG-1’s more memorable – or forgettable, depending on your view – missions. When he got to the mission where Cam lost his pants for the first time, John surged up from the sofa and stumbled to the back of the apartment.

When he didn’t return after ten minutes, Jack rose and padded down the hall to check on him. He peered in the bathroom, but it was empty. A faint rattling drew him to the bedroom where he found John sprawled across the bed, face buried in a pillow, as his frame shook with silent sobs. Without saying a word, Jack turned and went back to the movie he’d found. He checked on John again a bit later and found him curled around the same pillow from earlier, sound asleep.

Jack left the room for a few minutes and returned with two bottles of water and a paper cup with three Tylenol in it that he placed on the nightstand then set a bucket on the floor in easy reach. He pulled the door ajar to allow a narrow strip of light to enter the room. Not enough to be blinding, but enough to see by for dark-adjusted eyes.

Jack returned to his movie and decided that the SGC could do without him for a day. Plus, Sam knew where he was if there were any dire issues. He finished his flick and his beer then shut the lights off and made his way to the spare bedroom.

0o0o0o0o0o0o0

John awoke with a pounding head and an urgent need to pee. Getting drunk to ease the pain of Cam’s loss had seemed like a good idea at the time. He made his way to the bathroom and took care of his business then stumbled back to bed. He dropped onto the bed and spotted the cup of tablets and water. He popped all three of the Tylenol in his mouth before cracking the seal on one of the water bottles and downing half.

He flopped back on the bed and closed his eyes. He’d planned to start for Kansas today, but he felt shitty after last night’s excess. He made a mental note to research the route since he hadn’t been to the Mitchell homestead before. A trail of warmth trickled into his hair as he thought of the plans they’d made for their next leaves. Cam had wanted to introduce him to the insanity that was his family. Well, he would still be meeting Cam’s family. The difference would be that it would be without Cam.

He didn’t realize he’d fallen asleep again until voices woke him. He kept his eyes closed and listened to see who it was. Jack’s voice was clear as was Teal’c’s rumble, but it took a moment to differentiate Daniel and Sam. Silently, he wished Vala was around, but Cam had told him about her being taken by the Ori. Rolling over, he peered at the clock. 0730 hours. Lethargy stole over him and his eyes slipped closed once more.

Weight settled on the bed and drew him from the lassitude pressing his body into the mattress.

“You awake?”

He debated how to answer Jack and decided on a grunt.

“Look, I’m not the best at discussing feelings, but I need to say a few things. The first is – don’t do anything stupid. Cam would kick both our asses if that happened. The second is – don’t shut people out. I know it’s irritating when someone tells you they understand or when they ask if they can get you anything. They’re tryin’ to help. Biting their heads off won’t make you feel better.”

John rolled onto his back and ran one hand through his hair. “I get it. It’s … I have this gaping hole in my soul, like a black hole. It keeps trying to pull me in and sometimes I feel like giving in.”

A warm body settled on his other side. “I felt like that when my parents died,” Daniel said. “I wished the ground would swallow me so I wouldn’t have to deal with the pain. My grandfather took one look at me then put a pickaxe in my hands and led me to a rock wall. I took my frustration and rage out on that wall. I also found the hidden entrance to a tomb. Turned out that the builders had cut part of the face away, built the tomb then fixed the slabs back in place.”

A slighter weight crawled onto the bed between Daniel and Jack. “I remember facing the pit of despair when I found that my father was dying,” Sam whispered as if afraid of the words. “It brought back the pain of my mother’s death and I could see the years of missed opportunities morphing into a mountain of regrets. His bonding with Selmak gave us the chance to reconcile and change those opportunities into memories.”

“I too have looked into the abyss of despair,” Teal’c said from the foot of the bed.

John lifted his head to make sure he was actually in the room.

“My father was a warrior of Apophis, one of his Seconds. My mother was given to him as a reward for heroics in battle. Instead of commanding her to service him and thus earn her ire, he wooed her and they grew to love each other. I was in training when word reached me that she had been killed by a rival of my father. Master Bra’tac took me aside and allowed me privacy to shed the tears of grief. He then passed along a piece of wisdom that I wish to share with you. Allow the heavens to carry your sadness away, the flowers to fill your heart with beauty, hope to wipe away your tears, and above all, allow silence to make you strong.”

John pushed himself upright and stared at the Jaffa. He knew his mouth was hanging open, but he couldn’t help it. He felt he should say something, but he was in shock over Teal’c’s speech.

“Wow, T., that was a year’s worth of words.” Jack said what they were all thinking from the looks on everyone’s faces.

Teal’c bowed his head. “Indeed, O’Neill.”

The weight pressed in and John ducked his head to hide the moisture in his eyes. “Why?”

“Why what, John,” Sam asked.

He raised his head and allowed them to see his pain. “Why are all of you here? Why try to comfort me? You don’t even know me,” he cried.

Sam crawled around on the bed until she could wrap her arms around him. John let her because it felt good to be insulated against the emptiness.

“We’re here because we care,” she said.

More warmth enveloped him from the other side. “We’re here because Cam was our friend and brother,” Daniel said. “He’d kick our asses if we didn’t take care of you. You were … are his partner, whether he’s still here or not. That makes you family and SG-1 takes care of its own.”

A furnace pressed the mattress down behind him and a large hand settled on his back. “Indeed, it is as Daniel Jackson and Samantha Carter have said.”

A firm hand gripped his leg. “Yeah, what they said.”

Feeling overwhelmed, John did the only thing he could and released the tears. As the first sobs broke through, he felt Sam and Daniel hug him even tighter. Instead of drawing away, he relaxed into their hold and accepted the comfort they were offering. Teal’c’s hand slid along his back as shudders racked his frame. Normally, he’d be embarrassed for crying on the shoulder of a superior officer, but Sam just tucked his head in closer and murmured the right bits of nonsense to squash those feelings.

Eventually the tears dried up and left him feeling hollow.

“Better?” Sam whispered.

He nodded and she and Daniel released him. The hot spot disappeared from his back as Teal’c withdrew his hand and stood.

Jack stood and clapped his hands. “Well, glad that’s over. John, you might want to shower before lunch gets here in,” he checked his watch, “twenty minutes.”

A smile pulled at the muscles of his face. “Is that an order?”

“It can be. Stay in those clothes any longer and they may take off on their own.”

“Yes Sir.”

John rose stiffly and headed for the bathroom. Trying to avoid thinking about his reason for being on Earth, John visualized the pre-flight routine of his favorite Pave Hawk as the hot shower chased the last lingering bits of sleepiness away. A mechanical rattle shattered the silence as he re-entered the now-empty bedroom. He listened to the assortment of clangs, thumps and beeps before he identified it. The garbage truck. Cam had complained about it when he’d told him that he hated Monday mornings because of that damn truck. It was only as he was pulling on clean jeans, a t-shirt, and another of Cam’s sweatshirts that memory clicked.

It was Monday.

He’d arrived on Friday.

He’d lost the entire weekend.

John glanced over his shoulder to see Jack standing in his doorway. “I slept two days?”

“You did,” the silver-haired General said. “You woke a few times then went back to sleep. Sam wanted to call Carolyn and have her check you, but Daniel and I convinced her you were fine.”

“Thanks.”

“Lunch is here.” Jack pointed back over his shoulder with a smirk. “Better hurry before Daniel and Teal’c devour it all.”

“I think there’ll be plenty. Neither of them is as bad as Rodney and Ronon.”

John padded down the hall, Jack at his side and looked around as they stepped into the living room. Teal’c had a modestly full plate in his hands and Daniel had his nose in a book, his plate still clean, meaning he hadn’t touched the food yet.

Sam gave him a strained smile as she moved past him to the living room. His stomach growled and John realized he hadn’t eaten in 48 hours, not since Friday night’s pizza. He filled a plate, carried it to the living room and sank into Cam’s favorite chair. Jack followed a few minutes later and dropped a bottle of water by his elbow.

As he ate, he decided that Sam and the others had done what Cam asked them to, even though it was an order they should’ve ignored. Eventually, he’d probably forgive them. Maybe. Probably.

Jack and SG-1 stayed until after dinner. He watched the news and Googled directions to the Mitchell farm. While the directions were printing, he re-packed his bags. His dress uniform went back into the garment bag while everything else went into his duffle bag. He tucked the directions into the outer pocket of the duffle then crawled into bed. He turned out the lights and peered up through the divide in the curtains to look out at a sky both familiar and strange. Some of the constellations he remembered, but he kept looking for some of the ones he and Rodney had worked out in Lantea’s sky.

Laying back, John wriggled until he could see the stars. He was tired, but his mind was too wired. Instead of tossing and turning, he tried an old trick he hadn’t used since Afghanistan. He took a deep breath and released it then looked upwards. Instead of counting sheep, he counted stars. He fell into blue lit darkness before he got to thirty.

0o0o0o0o0o0o0

Next morning, he ate a quick breakfast as he shook off strange dreams of an Ancient teaching him … something, then loaded the car. He was determined to get close to Auburn before stopping for the evening. With a heavy heart, John started Cam’s beloved Mustang and began the long journey to Kansas.


	6. Homecoming

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello, everyone! With Easter coming up this weekend, the Easter Bunny came by and asked me to give all of you wonderful SGA fans a special treat! Enjoy!

John laid his jacket on the bed beside his cap and turned to survey the room once more. Satisfied that he hadn’t forgotten anything, he carried his things out and re-packed the car, thankful to be leaving. He’d kept hearing snatches of voices until the wee hours of the morning and hadn’t slept well.  Plus, he’d had another of those strange dreams about an Ancient. The young lady manning the counter gave him the once-over while she tallied his bill. He gave her a small smile then let his attention wander. Two elderly couples and a young couple with kids were enjoying the free Continental breakfast. The coffee smelled like road tar and none of the pastries looked appealing, which was good because he didn’t want to get anything on his uniform.

The girl got his attention and he turned back to sign the charge ticket. The SGC would be happy when they got the bill for the moderate hotel he’d stayed in. Not so much though when they got the gas and food tickets. His stomach was still in knots, but he’d forced down food, choosing small meals to large ones. Carson had been hinting the prospect of protein shakes in his future before he left. John knew he was off his fighting weight, but not by much.

Cam had mentioned that his folks were early risers, so John had his arrival timed for late morning. Hopefully, he wouldn’t interrupt breakfast or anything of that nature.

0o0o0o0o0o0o0

The whoop of a siren made John grimace even as he peered down at the speedometer. He wasn’t going too fast, so he was curious as to why he was being stopped.

“Hey, Shaft, glad to see …”

John looked up into the face of one of Auburn’s finest. “Officer?”

“Sorry, thought I recognized the car.”

John got it. “Were you and Cam friends?”

“Yeah. We went to school together.” The officer extended his hand. “Sheriff James Whitehall.”

John reached through and shook it. “Lieutenant Colonel John Sheppard.”

Whitehall leaned down and peered through the window, checking to see if Cam was slumped over asleep.

“You and Cam serve together?”

“Different bases, same department.”

“And you and Cam are friends?”

“Yeah. Very close.”

John saw the look of recognition on Whitehall’s face. He had gotten what John wasn’t saying.

“You’d have to be for him to let you drive his car. But, I have a feeling this isn’t a social call,” Whitehall said.

“No, it’s not,” John said. “I …”

“I understand. Let Momma know I’ll stop by in a day or two to see her.”

“I will.”

The two shook hands then Whitehall drove off. John rested his head on the top of the steering wheel. The sheriff had pieced the clues together and realized the reason for John’s visit and why he had Cam’s car. Taking a deep breath, John retreated into his shell of numbness as he put the Mustang in gear and continued his journey.

0o0o0o0o0o0o0

Wendy Mitchell dried her hands off then adjusted the heat on the beans. They’d go nicely with the ham sitting in the refrigerator. A rumble of a car outside drew her to the window in time to catch a glimpse of a black, sporty body. She whipped off her apron and headed for the front door. “Frank, Cameron’s here,” she called as she passed the den.

Her husband, Frank, limped into the hall behind her. “Did he call and say he was coming?”

“No, which is rather strange. He never comes home without calling.”

“Maybe he didn’t have time to call,” Frank said.

The engine had died by the time Wendy opened the door. “Welcome h…”

The man standing on her front porch wearing Air Force dress blues was not her son. Her gaze darted to the car to check. Yes, it was Cameron’s car, the familiar Kansas plates standing out in stark contrast.

“Mrs. Wendy Mitchell, Mr. Frank Mitchell, I’m Lieutenant Colonel John Sheppard. May I come in?”

A horrible feeling settled in the pit of her stomach as she let the dark haired man in.

0o0o0o0o0o0o0

John clung tightly to the pervasive numbness blanketing his heart. It was the only way he could get through this. “I’m sorry to be the one to tell you this, but your son, Colonel Cameron Mitchell, has been declared Missing in Action and,” John had to pause a moment to swallow the lump in his throat, “is presumed dead.”

“No. No, this … it can’t be,” Wendy Mitchell said before burying her head in her husband’s shoulder as the tears flowed.

“I’m sorry, ma’am, but it is.”

“Did you know Cameron,” Frank asked.

“Yes.” John blinked back the tears that threatened to break through the numbness. “We were good friends. We served on different bases, but worked for the same department.”

Wendy blew her nose then looked up at John. “Can you tell us how this happened?”

John could see an air of resignation settle around the couple. They were prepared to be told some cock and bull story about it being a training accident or classified or some other crap. He reached down and pulled the two manila envelopes out of his laptop case. “I know this seems like a lot, but I have been authorized to tell you. Ca … Colonel Mitchell asked that you be told the truth if anything happened to him. The request was granted, but I need you to sign these before we proceed,” he said as he pushed the NDAs towards them.

They picked them up and pulled out the non-disclosure agreements. John bowed his head and stared at the floor as they read through the documents. He remembered his promise to Jack and stood. “I need to make a brief call. I’ll be right back.” The Mitchells nodded almost in unison.

John stepped into the kitchen and called Jack.

“O’Neill.”

“I made it to Kansas. I’m at the Mitchells.”

“Are you staying,” Jack asked.

“I don’t know. I’ll let you know.”

“Okay, and remember what I told you. No biting.”

“Yes, Sir.”

The line went dead and John pocketed the phone. He got a drink of water then placed his hands on the counter to brace himself against and ducked his head. “Cam, help me. I … I can’t do this without you.” His plea was greeted by silence. He straightened, tugged his jacket into place and shoved the pain deep. He had a task to complete before allowing himself the luxury of a breakdown.

0o0o0o0o0o0o0

John was silent throughout the video, speaking only when Wendy or Frank asked for clarification. He spent the time wrestling with his own tumultuous emotions. He hoped he’d be able to leave before they asked any hard questions. Alas, it was not to be.

After the video ended, Frank and Wendy had a lot of questions, which John answered as best he could. Then they asked the hardest one: what was Cam’s last mission? He took a deep breath then told them in halting sentences what had occurred. He left out the part about seeing Cam go down, instead telling them that the circumstances of his disappearance had been pieced together by trackers and the eyewitness testimony of the Marines who arrived as backup. Wendy Mitchell turned into her husband’s embrace when John finished and John excused himself to let them grieve in peace.

John stepped into the kitchen and started to sit down then spotted a swing chair on the back porch. He made his way out and settled in the center of the swing and unfastened his jacket. It reminded him of one his mother had loved and he remembered that you had to sit in the middle or else it wobbled. He sneezed and set the swing to rocking. Wiping his nose, he leaned back to enjoy the solitude.

Staring across the yard, John lost himself in the swaying of the trees as he pushed the agony of the broken bond deep. The pain, which felt like walking on shards of glass, had been with him since he woke after Cam’s death. Not even Carson's best had touched it. He didn’t realize he wasn’t alone until a warm body settled next to him.

“Colonel, were you and Cameron close?”

“We were good friends.” John hedged. He didn’t know if Cam’s parents knew about his preferences.

“If you’re trying to protect Cameron, don’t. I’ve known for years what his preferences were,” she told him. “The only thing I ever wanted was for my boys to be happy. I also happen to know that Base Commanders don’t make official notifications to a family.”

“It was Ca … Colonel Mitchell’s request. As I said, we were good friends.”

Wendy shifted and placed her hand on John’s forearm. “Son, I know you and Cameron had to be more than friends. He never let anyone drive that car. That he let you speaks volumes. I presume he left it to you?”

John could only nod.

Her hand moved to his shoulder as she searched his face. “You were partners.”

“I … yes,” John whispered. “Cam and I were soul mates. I felt …”

John couldn’t go on as Wendy wrapped him in a hug. “Let it out,” she told him, her voice thick with tears. “It’s okay to cry. You should cry. When we forget how to cry, then we forget how to be human.”

That was all it took. The floodgates opened once more and John was helpless against their flow. His body shook as the grief found release with a kindred soul. A second set of arms enclosed them as Frank joined them.

John had no idea how long they sat there, finding and giving comfort. His tears were gone and he felt hollow, content to drift in the circle of the Mitchell’s arms. Frank shifted and grunted in pain, breaking the spell.

“Sorry.”

John straightened reluctantly. “No apologies necessary, Mr. Mitchell.”

“Call me Frank.”

“John.”

Wendy patted his arm. “You can call me Momma. Everyone does. Or call me Wendy if it makes you uncomfortable.”

“Yes, Mrs. … Momma.”

“Now, I know what Cameron would want, and that would be for me to take care of you. Which I am going to do.”

John shook his head. “You don’t have to,” he whispered.

“Nonsense. Now, you go get your bags and Frank will show you Cameron’s room. At least now I understand why he bought a bigger bed last time he was home.”

“It’s not necessary. I don’t want to impose.”

“John Sheppard, do not argue with me. You are staying and I don’t want to hear any more nonsense about you leaving,” Wendy said sternly.

“I … yes, ma’am.” The glint in her eye warned John not to pursue the matter.

“Good,” she said as she patted him on the shoulder and stood. “We’ll have a late lunch then we can talk more.” Wendy bustled off, leaving a stunned John in her wake.

A chuckle sounded from his other side. “You’d have lost anyway, son. Wendy is a force of nature, and just like Mother Nature, she usually gets her way.” Frank stood and limped off towards the front of the house. John followed and retrieved his duffle from the car before following Frank inside.

Frank led him up the stairs and stopped at the first door on the right. Opening the door, he ushered John in then stepped in behind him. “This is … was … is Cameron’s room. You’ll be staying here. Bathroom’s across the hall. Get changed and we’ll have a bite to eat then I’ll show you around before dinner.”

John set his bag down and looked around. The bedroom was … Cam. There was no other way to describe it. Pictures of cars and airplanes mixed with football and bits of geekery like the autographed Darth Vader picture sandwiched between a Ferrari Testarossa and a group shot of the Thunderbirds at an air show.

Memory prodded him and he pulled out his phone. Sam’s phone went to voicemail, so he left a message telling her that he was staying awhile. He figured he had plenty of leave time accrued that the Air Force wouldn’t mind seeing him use some of it.

He dropped onto the bed and pulled out boots, a long sleeved tee, jeans, and a fleece jacket. The house was warm for late spring, but he felt chilled. He reached into a side pocket and drew out a packet of Tylenol which he swallowed with a cup of water from the bathroom. He changed quickly, making sure to hang up his uniform so it wouldn’t wrinkle.

Frank was waiting at the bottom of the stairs and looked up when John appeared.

“Hope I didn’t keep you waiting,” John told him.

Frank shook his head. “Nope. I figured you wouldn’t dawdle. Military life kinda knocks that out of you.”

John gave him a faint smile. “That it does.”

Frank showed John around the yard, pointing out points of interest as they went. They fell into an easy companionship, comparing aircraft they’d flown as they walked. Frank even managed to get John to tell him how he and Cam met.

Dinner started quietly then morphed into story time as Frank and Wendy took turns telling John stories of Cam growing up. Afterward, he helped Momma clean up before she sent him to bed. He took two more tablets and added another blanket to the bed before changing and crawling under the covers.

Life settled into a routine. John rose early and went for a short run before breakfast. After breakfast, he helped Frank around the yard or Wendy, whichever needed him. If there were nothing pressing, he’d get his bantos rods out and practice. The second day he pulled them out, Frank insisted that he needed a pells to practice against. John’s protests fell on deaf ears and by lunch, he had a brand new pells to whack.

0o0o0o0o0o0o0

Wendy looked at the wet mess in front of her and sighed. John was drenched from helping Frank secure the barn door against the storm raging outside. She knew John had been fighting a cold for the last week or more and had taken every opportunity she could to dose him with the herbal teas laced with honey that she’d given the boys when they were feeling poor and to make certain he got enough sleep and plenty to eat. John was shivering and pale except for two bright spots high on his cheeks. “Get upstairs and get in the tub. You need to soak that chill out before you catch pneumonia.”

“I’m …”

Wendy shook her head. “If you’re about to tell me you’re fine, then save your breath. You are not fine. I know you’ve been fighting a cold since you got here. Now get upstairs and I want you to have a nice, long soak then get into bed. I’m going to make you some tea and an early dinner, then you are going to get some sleep.”

John nodded in resignation and trudged up the stairs.

“And don’t even think about doing any running or jumping about tomorrow.” John’s shoulders slumped and she knew he’d been thinking just that. Wendy shook her head as she bustled around her kitchen. Men. Fortunately, she’d put beans on that morning, some inner sense telling her they were going to get some rough weather. She heard the water running for a while then stop and the faint creaking of the floor as John climbed in. Thirty minutes later, she heard water in the drain and the floor creaking once again. Taking that as her cue, she got what she needed together then went upstairs.

She found John, wearing one of Cameron’s old sweatshirts, bundled up under the covers; his still-damp hair sticking out wildly and she had to chuckle.

“What?” John asked.

She smiled as she set down the tray. “I’d often wondered if your hair stuck out like that naturally or if you used product.”

John sniffled and frowned and Wendy knew she’d hit a landmine.

“I’m sorry, John. I’m not trying to tease you. I was simply curious.”

He coughed and she heard the beginning of crackles in his chest.

“’S alright. I have bad cowlicks.”

He leaned forward and she combed her fingers through his hair. “Sweetie, you got licked by a whole herd.”

They both laughed at her statement, but John’s quickly turned into coughing. She patted his back until he hacked up a wad of mucus into a tissue.

“I hate this.”

“Hate what?” Wendy asked as she sat beside him.

“Hate being sick. Hate feeling miserable.” John stopped and blew his nose.

“Well, I’m going to take care of you as I would’ve Cameron. He obviously cared a great deal for you, so I’m adopting you. I would’ve done it anyway the first time he brought you home.”

“I … thanks.”

Wendy patted his knee and rose. “Eat as much of that as you can and drink all of the tea. It’ll help you feel better.” She headed for the door and paused on the threshold. “And don’t worry about the dishes. Just set them out of your way and I’ll get them later.”

“Okay.”

0o0o0o0o0o0o0

Looking out across the yard, John allowed his mind to wander. Thankfully, his fever had finally broken two days ago along with the weather. His dreams had been strange, even for fever dreams. The Ancient woman had starred in many of them and she had been drilling him in the proper use of telepathy. That thought had made him laugh, although there had been that moment after dinner last night when he thought Momma asked him if he wanted pie twice. He started to say something sarcastic but changed his mind and went with a simple yes.

Momma had encouraged him to get out of bed and get some fresh air, but he was under strict orders to not even think about doing anything strenuous. Momma had had this look in her eye that would have cowed the Marine DI’s on Atlantis into submission, one that he had no intention of crossing.

He imagined Cam as a young child getting into all sorts of mischief here. The tree near the barn, which was missing its lower limbs on the side nearest the structure announced that the branches had been removed to keep someone off the roof. The swing on its other side had long ropes that would make it difficult to get up a lot of speed or height. Scars lower down announced former positions of the swing.

A shadow dimmed the yard and John peered up into the crystal blue sky. The cloud looked like two jets flying in tandem, wingtips almost touching as they streaked across the sky. That was one thing they hadn’t had a chance to do. He’d been looking forward to his next trip back to Earth. They both needed seat time to keep their flight qualifications current and they’d already planned to do some flying. He could see it in his mind, the two of them, racing through the air, scant meters above the ground then pulling up into a steep climbing spiral, planes belly to belly as they raced for the edge of space.

Closing his eyes, he pushed the image from his mind. There was no sense in torturing himself with something that couldn’t happen.

Stretching his legs out, he got comfortable and was on the edge of sleep when the theme to MacGyver split the air. There was something about the music that made him think of Jack, so he’d set it as the ringtone for the SGC.

He fished it out of his pocket as the tune started to repeat and swiped his finger across the button. “Sheppard.”

“Colonel, this is Sergeant Harriman.”

“What can I do for you, Walter?”

“Sorry to disturb your trip, but we’ve received an urgent message from Atlantis. It seems that a virus has been released into Atlantis’ systems. Doctor McKay has been able to protect the Stargate and a few other functions, but they need you there to operate the Chair.”

“How long do I have to pack?”

“The Apollo will be overhead in an hour to beam you directly to the Mountain, Sir,” Walter replied.

“Okay, thanks, See you soon.” He tapped the end call button and slid his phone back in his pocket as he rose from the chair. Turning towards the door, John stopped short at Wendy’s appearance in the doorway.

“You’ve been recalled.” She made it a statement, not a question.

“Yeah, there’s a problem in Atlantis that McKay can’t fix without me.”

“How long?”

John knew she was asking how long until he left, not how long he’d be gone. “An hour.”

“Good,” she said. “You get upstairs and start packing. I’ll bring up your laundry. By then the pies in the oven will be done and you can take one of them with you.”

“Momma, I …”

Wendy set her fists on her hips. “You will be taking one, John Sheppard, and I’ll not hear any arguing about it.”

John sighed. “Yes, Momma.”

0o0o0o0o0o0o0

Wendy let out a sigh as the flash faded. John still looked terrible and she knew he hadn’t been sleeping well as he usually woke at least once most nights in the throes of a nightmare. She knew he still felt the pain of Cameron’s passing keenly. She’d passed by the family room a few times and caught him going through the photo albums, head bowed, hands white-knuckled where they gripped the edges of the album.

She headed for the yard to work in her garden. John’s leaving had changed the atmosphere in the house and she needed to get out for a while. The same thing happened whenever Cam left. She’d go pull weeds for a while then go back inside and straighten up.

An hour and forty-five minutes later, Wendy had a bucketful of weeds for the compost heap and was about to call it quits for the day. She stood and picked up her bucket, and had taken two steps towards the compost pile when she heard the growl of a big engine coming up the driveway. She set her bucket down and stepped into the shade of the porch to see who it was. As the vehicle drew nearer she could tell that it wasn’t local. Everyone local treated her driveway like a dragstrip. When the boys were younger, she’d had to put her foot down to keep Frank from erecting a set of timing lights. Cole had shrugged it off, but Frank and Cameron had moped for two weeks.

The SUV rolled to a stop and the engine cut off, but no one climbed out. After a few minutes, she grew curious and moved closer. The Colorado plates confirmed that the driver wasn’t local. Maybe it was someone looking for John. She frowned at that thought. His base had known where he was, although he’d told her that that information was limited to just a few people. Which meant anyone looking for him should have been told he was beamed back. Wendy reached into her pocket and slipped off the safety on the Beretta .9mm Cam had insisted she have when he started flying classified missions.

She took a deep breath then tapped on the driver’s window. She was reaching for the door handle when the door opened and she found herself wrapped in a bear hug from the last person she’d expected to see. Cameron.  



	7. Reunion

Cam made an effort to relax as he passed the marker that edged his folk’s farm. He still had a few miles to go, but he’d be home soon. His stomach clenched in anticipation at the reunion to come. He’d spoken with Sam and Daniel and they’d filled him in on what had occurred with the IOA. They’d been hesitant to answer his questions regarding John which told him how badly John had taken the news.

They had helped him pack for his trip home once he was cleared to leave the base, but Daniel had suggested he not call ahead. There were some things that were better done face to face and finding out he was alive was one of them.

He’d been ready to leave the Mountain after he cleared medical, but the Powers That Be insisted he stay on base until they had him cleared in the system and all of his codes and authorizations re-established. He knew it was necessary, but the delay had chafed at him.

He slowed the borrowed Tahoe and eased onto the driveway. Normally, he’d fly down the drive but that was in his Mustang. The Tahoe he’d checked out of the motor pool handled well, but, even after the long drive, he wasn’t that familiar with it to pull off the same stunt. He braked to a gentle stop in front of the porch and shut the engine off.

He couldn’t do this. Maybe they’d be better off if he stayed missing … no, that was defeatist. His family would understand, as would John. Not like he could hide from John anyway unless he deserted. Someone would mention him or his name would come up in a report then there’d be hell to pay.

Leaning forward, he rested his forehead against his hands at the top of the steering wheel as he wrestled to get his nerves under control. He sucked in a deep breath and held it before slowly releasing it then repeated. A tap on the window startled him from his calming exercise and he turned to see his mother trying to peer through the Tahoe’s tinted windows. He drew in one last deep breath then opened the door, stepped out, and wrapped his arms around his mother.

“Hi, Momma, I’m home.”

His mother leaned back a bit, the better to see his face, he supposed. He shuddered as a hesitant hand rose to stroke his cheek.

“Cameron? Is it really you?”

Cam hugged her tighter. “Yeah, it’s me, Momma.”

Her arms looped around him as she returned his embrace.

“Oh, Cameron, I’m so glad you’re alive,” she said through tears of happiness. “Your John came and told us what happened. Your father and I were very upset, as was John. He hid it well, but I could tell.” Wendy pulled back to look at him. “Before you start trying to deny what’s between the two of you, I’ve known for a long time. John tried to deny it too, but I told him the same thing.”

John. John was here! He’d half expected to be greeted by a certain messy-haired flyboy and a pistol. “Speaking of, where is John?”

Wendy’s face fell as she peered up at him. “Honey, I’m so sorry, but you missed him by two hours.”

0o0o0o0o0o0o0

John materialized in the SGC’s Gateroom and looked around. Spotting General Landry in the control both, he snapped off a salute which the General returned. “Any more word from Atlantis?”

Landry shook his head. “I got the feeling that they didn’t want to dial out too many times in order to keep a lid on the situation. We’ll be dialing out in a moment.”

“Thank you, Sir,” John said then turned away. The SGC’s Gateroom hadn’t changed. It was still dreary, gray, and depressing.

Several minutes later, Walter arrived and commenced the dialing sequence. At times like this, he was grateful not to need to endure the long trip on the Daedalus. The SGC had found a second ZPM near the one they sent to Atlantis. Freight and personnel transfers were still accomplished by the Daedalus, but the ZPM meant that emergencies could be easily handled. They were also investigating methods that would lessen the drain on the ZPM. John still preferred that they handle their own emergencies, but the option was there.

The wormhole whooshed into being and John picked up his duffle. In the control booth, Walter was sending the IDC and awaiting a reply from Atlantis. John closed his eyes as he sorted through the sensations from Atlantis. There was a virus, but there was something else too. A crackle sounded from the loudspeakers in the Gateroom.

“Colonel, we can’t get anyone to answer our hail. Atlantis’ communications system must be down. The shield is still functioning. We can’t send you through.”

John spun and smiled. “Yes, you can.” He focused on the shimmering pool for a moment then climbed the stairs to the control booth. He glanced around, but the room was empty except for Landry and Walter. “Sir, I need the Gateroom cleared. I can get the shield down, but I’d prefer that the how remain classified.”

Landry frowned. “Not that I don’t trust you, but how?”

“I can communicate with Atlantis. There is a virus, but something else has happened as well. She is very anxious. I can get into the system from here, but I need to touch the event horizon.”

“That sounds dangerous, son.”

“Not to me.”

“Have you ever done this before?”

John shook his head. “I know it will work.”

Landry was silent for a moment, and John made the effort to not fidget. Even with his shields up, the anxiety pouring through the wormhole was making him edgy.

“Alright, you have a go,” Landry announced. “But I want you wearing a bulletproof vest.” He held up a hand to forestall protests. “I know you may not need it, but better safe than sorry.”

John returned to the Gateroom floor and hurriedly ducked into the vest one of the Marines handed him on the way out. John spun on his heels and scoped out the room. The room was clear except for himself, Landry, and Walter; the huge composite steel doors were sealed and the security cameras were off. Squaring his shoulders, he plucked his bags from the floor and marched up the steel ramp, stopping an arm’s length from the event horizon. Reaching out, he stuck his hand into the wormhole and lowered his shields.

*“Atlantis, code Charlie-Bravo-Delta-one-nine-six-seven-Juliette-five.”*

_*“Code confirmed. Voiceprint confirmed. Access granted, Muse Sheppard.”*_

*“Lower the shield guarding the astria porta.”*

_*“Such action is not advised. Additional authorization required.”*_

*“Authorization Charlie-Alpha-Mike-one-nine-seven-zero-Delta-one-one.”*

_*“Code confirmed. The shield is down.”*_

John took a deep breath then plunged into the wormhole hoping he wasn’t about to be a bug on a windshield.

0o0o0o0o0o0o0

Hank Landry trusted Sheppard to know his business when it came to Atlantis. Since he’d fallen in with Jack and supported Sheppard, he’d taken the time to actually read the reports from the city instead of skimming them. Certain things in the reports didn’t quite add up if you were looking for them. At least, they didn’t if you were in the SGC’s core group. Otherwise, the explanations given were perfectly plausible. Even then, mention of Sheppard’s interactions with the city were rarely, if ever, present. Therefore, what he was witnessing was a rare occurrence. To avoid being treated like a lab rat, he presumed that the Lieutenant Colonel usually only displayed his talents in front of a select few individuals that he trusted not to abuse the privilege.

He tensed when Sheppard stuck his hand in the wormhole and stayed that way the entire time. He saw relief wash over Walter’s face briefly, and waited a few seconds for the Master Chief to confirm the good news as the indicator light on his board for Atlantis’ shield blinked out a split second before Sheppard stepped through the Gate.

“Transit successful, Sir.”

“Thank you, Walter,” Landry said with relief.

0o0o0o0o0o0o0

John stepped through the wormhole into hell. Or at least a close approximation considering the number of klaxons shattering the air of the crowded Gateroom, and the clusters of people moaning in pain lying in out of the way locations.

“Sir, thank God you’re here!”

John grit his teeth against the loud sounds and looked up to see Lorne carefully making his way down the Grand Stairs, McKay at his heels. “Why are the alarms still active?”

McKay leaned close to be heard without yelling. “A lot of the controls have been affected by the virus. We can’t shut them off.”

“Do we have anybody off-world?”

Lorne nodded. “When we discovered the virus, we evacuated most of the residents to the Alpha Site, Doctor Weir among them.  She wanted to stay, but she fell when the alarms went off and has a sprained ankle and a bump on the head. A small contingent stayed behind to secure the city.” John acknowledged it with a dip of his chin. Stabilizing the Gate would be his first … second priority after shutting off the damn alarms.

Rodney glanced over his shoulder and frowned. “Not that I’m not glad to see you, Sheppard, but how did you get here? The Gate controls became infected after we sent the request for you. Chuck validated your IDC, but he couldn’t drop the shield. We were rather surprised to see it blink out and for you to step through.”

Not wanting to get into details, John shook his head. “I’ll tell you later. For now, I need to get to the Chair Room so we can turn these alarms off before everyone goes deaf.”

“What was that? I can’t hear you,” Rodney yelled over the din with a crooked smile.

A ghost of a smile flitted across his features for a brief moment at McKay’s attempt at humor. Instead of yelling, he simply shook his head in resignation. An Airman appeared at his elbow and John handed off his duffle. The Dutch Apple pie Momma had insisted he take was securely packaged in the top of his duffle, but he was not about to mention it. If Rodney or Ronon caught the merest whiff all he’d get would be crumbs.

Moving briskly, John headed for the Chair Room. He stepped out of the transporter and winced at the sonic pressure. The lower halls were worse, which explained why the Gateroom had been so full. Ducking back into the transporter, he stumbled to his quarters, the stress headache that had started due to the phone call ramping up to near-migraine status.

He crossed the room and stopped at a section of blank wall. Reaching out, he flattened his hand against the wall. A faint light flashed and a drawer slid out. Reaching in, John pulled out a bottle of Tylenol and promptly popped three in his mouth before pulling out a handful of power bars and his flight helmet. He tucked the bars into his pockets then donned the helmet with a sigh of relief. Made to block the noise of aircraft engines, it definitely helped. Every soldier in this city had a set of ear protectors for use on the gunnery range, plus they had spares for the civilians. They wouldn’t block as much, but they’d be better than nothing. Walking from his quarters, he made a mental note that, when this was over, he was going to find out how many of his company hadn’t thought of the ear protectors and make them run laps with Ronon. For a week.

0o0o0o0o0o0o0

Atlantis was not happy about the virus which had invaded her systems, but she was glad that her Chosen had made his way home. She observed as he made his way to his quarters to retrieve a strange helmet. From the changes in his life signs, she determined that the helmet was a protective device. He quickly made his way through her corridors to her _imperium cathedra_. This relieved her greatly. His burgeoning abilities were beginning to manifest and the _cathedra_ gave her the ability to teach him.

0o0o0o0o0o0o0

Cam was toweling off from the first unhurried shower he’d had all week when his phone started ringing. He snatched it off the toilet tank and swiped his finger across the screen. “Mitchell.”

“Sorry to disturb you Colonel, but we have a situation,” Landry said without preamble.

“What is it? The Ori? Ba’al? Vala?”

Landry let out a snort at the last. “Unfortunately no. We have a foothold situation.”

“Okay, that’s easily fixable.”

“In Atlantis.”

Those two words chilled Cam’s blood more than any others ever had. The strength of Atlantis in the hands of unknowns, who were doing or had done God knows what to its people. Images of Lorne bleeding out, McKay shackled to a lab bench, and John … Lord alone knew what the unknowns would do to John. If they were Ancestor lovers they’d most likely use him for breeding purposes. If they weren’t, well, the options were too horrible to contemplate. “When's beam out?”

“One hour.”

0o0o0o0o0o0

Precisely one hour and two minutes later, Cam materialized in Cheyenne Mountain’s Gateroom thanks to a lift from the Apollo. Spotting Landry and O’Neill, he snapped off a salute. Landry returned it and Jack waved. “Sirs.”

“Sorry to drag you away from your reunion, Mitchell,” Jack said.

Cam nodded. “It’s alright, Sir. My folks understand.” He fell in with the two Generals as they headed for the upstairs conference room. “What do we know?”

Landry waved him to a seat as took his at the head of the table. “We contacted Atlantis this morning for a status update. There was a lengthy pause on their end until Sergeant Campbell responded with the proper protocols. Because of the long lapse, Walter got chatty. Campbell played along and was able to slip in several keywords and phrases. The virus interfered with the Ancient systems. McKay was working on fixing it, but they needed Colonel Sheppard in Atlantis’ Chair in order to get to the root of the problem.”

Landry paused and took a drink of water then continued. “According to the conversation between Campbell and Walter, there are approximately 20 - 30 raiders, but there could be more. We don’t know the disposition of the Atlantis personnel though.”

“Great.”

Jack leaned forward. “Ah, it’s not so bad, Mitchell. We do know one thing in our favor.”

“I don’t see how it could be worse, Sir.”

“They don’t have Sheppard,” Jack said as he stared intently across the table.

John was loose. In Atlantis. With hidden weapon caches and a sentient city as backup. He recalled John’s skill set and relaxed a bit. “What’s the plan?”

Jack nodded. “Frontal assault. We’re going to toss one of those big Goa’uld shock grenades through the Gate along with a handful of flash bangs. You’ll be taking a combat troop, extra medical personnel, supplies, and a ZPM from the pair SG-6 found on P5X-4337. Do whatever is necessary to secure Atlantis and our people.”

Landry stood. “Godspeed and good luck, son.”

Jack caught his eye and motioned for him to wait.

“Sir?”

“Your team is downstairs. Most of them are Marines that have served in Atlantis. Because you’ve never been there, I want you to get with your team and go over the floor plan for the city.” Jack looked up and checked the time. “Dial out is at 1600, which will be about 2200 Atlantis time.”

“We’ll be ready.”

Jack nodded once and headed for the door. He stopped halfway through and turned back. “Teach those bastards that we mean business.”

“Yes, Sir.”


	8. Predator

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks to DorothyOz for her support and awesome Beta skills!
> 
> Thanks also to all of you for reading and leaving kudos and comments! 
> 
>  
> 
> Now, on with the action!!!

Moving carefully, John crept up on one of his emergency weapon stashes. He stretched out his Spidey-senses as he called up his virtual HUD and checked for life signs. The area was clear. He opened his stash and picked up a pack then stuffed several ammo clips in it along with a couple of MRE’s, several silencers, and a med kit. He attached another silencer to his P90 then swapped the bulky bulletproof vest Landry had insisted on for a more comfortable, Kevlar lined tac vest.

He closed up the stash and made himself comfortable. He needed to eat before he tried diplomacy. Maybe this group would be reasonable, but he knew he’d be unable to carry out negotiations on an empty stomach. He ate quickly, unwilling to linger over the spaghetti and meatball MRE. Meal finished, he tossed the empty wrapper into a recycling chute then stood.

Choosing a barren section of the room, John performed one of the Bantos katas while he put his thoughts in order before opening Atlantis’ city-wide comm system.

“My name is Colonel John Sheppard and I would like to speak to the person in charge of the group currently occupying this city’s Gate area.”

John was wondering if they were going to reply or simply ignore him when a deep, growling voice echoed through the speakers.

_“I am Morin, leader of Clan Ufshak, Prime clan of Ufshalor. I have claimed this City of the Holy Ancestors for my Clan.”_

Geez, he hated religious zealots. “Well, Morin, I hate to disappoint you, but this is my city.”

_“You are a funny man, Colonel John Sheppard. I and my people have control of your Ring of the Ancestors. This means we control this city.”_

“So, if the lights go out, that means you can turn them back on, right? Seeing as how you control the city.” John put actions to words and shut off the lights in the Gate Room. Then, to add fuel to the fire, he powered down every piece of equipment in the room that cast light or glowed in some way. Short screams and a lot of yelling poured from the speakers. It was currently night and neither of the two moons were visible tonight. All of which added up to a **_very_** dark Gate Room. He could hear Rodney in the background telling Morin that there wasn't anything he could do to restore the power and urging him to accept whatever offer Sheppard made him.

“Well, Morin, have you turned the lights back on yet?”

_“I name you Blasphemer and Unclean! We are the rightful heirs of the Holy Ancients!”_

“The Ancients wouldn't even give you the time of day. See Morin, there's something you're forgetting. He who controls a thing can destroy that thing. I control the lights.” The lights came up slowly, flickered several times then came up and stayed on. “I control the doors.” Several of the doors opened and shut. “And I will destroy this city rather than allow it to be inhabited by a group of filthy, no-necked water-haters. You have until dawn to release my people and leave. After that, I will hunt you down and kill you.”

John cut the circuit, unwilling to listen to Morin’s garbled threats. Atlantis would inform him of any changes. He fluffed his nest and curled up, exhausted by the day's events.

0o0o0o0o0o0o0

After a few hours of restless sleep, John rose and cleaned up as best he could considering the circumstances. Checking his HUD, John noted that one of the search parties had entered the area. After being informed that he was a dead man walking, Morin had sent out search parties to try to do unto John before John did unto him. He checked his ammo and chambered a round then headed out. Morin had not cared for his ultimatum and had put his people to erecting barricades instead of packing. John had let them sweat while he slept. Atlantis had helped out. She kept changing the temperature in the Gate Room, although the captives stayed comfortable. Lights would flicker off and on, weird noises would issue from the vents, and other nuisances would occur as needed to keep the interlopers off guard.

John took a shorter path that intersected with the corridor they were traveling in. He reached an excellent vantage point and settled in to wait and prepare. Reaching deep, he drew on the core of cold, dark anger that he kept for situations like this. Last time he tapped into it was during the Siege; before that, sixty-five Genii died. The chill flowed through his limbs, channeling the pain and anger over Cam’s death and allowing cold logic to control his actions.

His wait was not long, as shortly the invaders stumbled into his kill zone, laughing and shoving each other drunkenly as they searched for treasure or whatever the hell brought them to the city. He raised his P90, took aim and fired. Four puffs preceded four thuds as each bullet struck home and the bodies dropped to the floor.

 _*“I shall take care of the cleanup and the bodies, Chosen,”*_ Atlantis told him.

 _*“Thanks.”*_ Cleanup during the Genii incident had been unpleasant. The enormous amount of power that flowed through the corridors from the lightning strikes had fried the bodies he’d left during his mission to save the city. And, with Atlantis’ ZPM depleted, she had been unable to assist with the clean-up.

John called up his HUD then set out after the next group. Hopefully, he could take out enough of them to encourage the interlopers to leave, but he wasn’t betting on it.

0o0o0o0o0o0o0

The next group John found were in a section where there were no overhanging balconies. There was, however, a junction where several corridors met at one of the lounge areas. He crept to the corner and peered around it. The group of eight were sprawled across the lounge chairs and benches, passing around several bottles of what he recognized as Zelenka’s best hooch. He made a mental note to slip some supplies for the Czech engineer into the next supply run.

He considered waiting until they were all drunk, but that carried too much of a risk of discovery. Free, he was able to whittle the number of asshats in his city down. Captured, he became a commodity to be traded or sold for his gene. Or worse. Plus, he couldn’t free Lorne or the others if he was sharing a chain with them. Decision made, John reached out and lowered some of the lights in the area to create deep shadows, while leaving those over his targets bright. The invaders were either too drunk or too incautious to notice the changes. Even if they did, the difference in illumination would leave them half-blind.

John pushed the pain of his headache away as he crept through the shadows, his black and gray uniform blending in and making him difficult to spot until he stood before them. Finger on the trigger, he fired, red spots blooming on foreheads as he swept his P90 left to right.

0o0o0o0o0o0o0

The third group John tracked down were camped out in one of the empty suites that were being used for storage. He considered shooting them, but the firing angles were bad. He'd have to stand over them to fire and the likelihood of his being captured rose. He backed down the corridor until he was out of earshot then unzipped his tac vest far enough to tuck his P90 inside. He couldn't afford to have it flopping in his way. Gun secure, he glided back to the room and drew his knife.

Standing over his first target, John mulled over his options. This would be quick, but he needed to muffle any sounds his victims might make. Looking around, he spied a pile of pillows. Perfect. Grabbing one, he knelt and pressed down as he drew his blade across the interloper’s throat. The pillow blocked the man’s gasping breaths with the added bonus of absorbing most of the blood. He repeated the process with the other four raiders in the room.

John was almost to the door when he spotted a sixth pile of bedding in the corner. Releasing a silent curse, he headed for the bathroom, it being the only logical place to look. He stepped between two stacks of crates and straight into a punch. The blow and his subsequent impact with a wall stunned him. His assailant wasted no time and was on him, punches coming fast and furious. John shook his head to clear it and was able to start blocking some of the blows. His head cleared a bit more and he went on the offensive, throwing punches and jabs at critical areas with long years of practice. Many of his shots were blocked, but enough got through to enrage his opponent, whose swings grew wilder. Finally, an opening presented itself and John took it, ramming his fist into the man’s throat and crushing his larynx and windpipe. His opponent thrashed in a vain attempt to draw air into his ruined throat, but his throes subsided as death claimed him.

John stepped into the bathroom and checked his head. His searching hand came away dotted with blood after verifying that he had a nice goose egg. There was nothing he could do for it other than put a bandage on it, but the pale gauze would make it more difficult for him to blend in, plus it would act as a bullseye for future opponents.

Washing his hands, he reflected on his day's events. Cam would have stood beside him and helped him shoot the earlier groups, but he would have grimaced at the knife work. John mused that it was the difference in their careers that caused it. He knew of John's Black Ops training, and appreciated it, but he wouldn't have joined in unless he had to, and he certainly wouldn't have asked John to not use his skills. He just had a core of Boy Scout fair play that made him want to face his opponents head on unless circumstances dictated otherwise. It was one of the things John loved … had loved about him.

John squeezed his eyes shut and willed the tears back. There would be time later to gather his team, get drunk, and mourn, but that time was not now. He had an infestation of Pegasus louts to clear out of his city. He turned his steps towards his bolt hole. He needed to get some sleep.

0o0o0o0o0o0o0

John groaned as he blinked sticky eyes open. The room where he’d crashed was still dark. Squinting at his watch, he groaned when he saw he’d only been asleep three hours. Levering himself up, he reached up to pinch the bridge of his nose to stave off the headache that had been his constant companion since he’d answered his phone in Kansas. He scrubbed one hand through his hair as memory asserted itself. He remembered helping McKay with the repairs then he’d felt an odd … twist and he’d found himself floating over a crystalline plain, aware that he was still helping McKay. It was weird.

“Hello, Chosen.”

John spun and came face to face with … Atlantis. The woman had long, red-gold hair and was wearing a flowing, blue-green dress with a fitted bodice and sleeves.

“Atlantis? Where are we?”

“We are inside my systems.”

“Why?”

“I brought you here so I could finish instructing you in the teachings, Chosen.”

John narrowed his eyes in suspicion. “Teachings on what?”

“How to use your _telepathia_ ,” Atlantis said calmly.

“My … I am not telepathic!”

“You are,” Atlantis said. “Look inside and you will see the truth.”

John closed his eyes and folded inside. After a moment, his eyes flew open again, anger evident in their depths. “What did you do to me?”

“I did nothing. The trauma of your bond mate’s death opened the pathways in your mind prematurely. They were opening already, but at a much slower pace. I gave you a teaching stone and put a temporary shield in place, but you need to learn to protect yourself and learn how to use your gift.”

“But,” John began.

“There are no buts. You must learn or you will die.”

John shook his head to clear the memory as he fished an MRE out of his pack. The ability, which had appeared in spurts while he was at the Mitchells, had come in handy, especially when he paired it with his personal HUD. That he could make a HUD appear regardless of his location was an ability that Rodney did not know about.

Calling up his HUD, he ate as he checked locations. A groan slipped through his lips as he peered at the display. Good news was that there were no patrols roaming his city. Better news was that there were only 34 bad guys left out of 60 and that his people were still alive. Bad news was that they had withdrawn behind their barricades, which meant it was time to switch tactics. Worse news was that the invader’s position meant he couldn’t get to the Stargate and bring in reinforcements or free the captives who were tied up in small groups and scattered throughout the room. 

He could’ve used Rodney’s help over the last few days, but he was stuck in the Control Room playing to his strengths by confusing the hell out of the invaders. Rodney had helped as he could, but there hadn’t been much he could do without giving John’s existence away.

He still had no idea why these people wanted Atlantis, other than that it was their Holy City, but the virus-toting artifact had definitely been their doing. They’d invaded just as McKay had eradicated the virus, but before John had re-initialized any of the affected systems except the Gate. Atlantis had kept him in the trance state instead of letting him fight the invaders, only releasing him once they were entrenched.

Through his connection with the city, he knew that the SGC had dialed in, presumably to check on their status. Chuck was one of the personnel who had stayed and John knew he would work in the key words to tell Earth that there was a problem. He knew there would be a response, he just didn’t know what form it would take. Would they send troops through and storm the Gate room? Or would they catch the Daedalus and send a force that way?

Either way, he hoped they did it soon. Standing, he crumpled the empty package and tossed it into a trash disposal chute. Opening his backpack, he withdrew a new silencer and screwed it onto his P90. He had four and was changing them out to avoid damaging any of them through overuse. He would have used one against the Genii, but they hadn’t been deemed necessary and had been struck from the expedition’s Table of Ordinance and Equipment. They had been one of the first things he’d argued for and gotten put back on the TOE.

A soft sound drew his attention as a panel opened in the wall. He stepped closer and spied a folded pile of cloth. “Atlantis, this isn't the time for redecorating.”

_*“It is a chameleon cloak. It will be of service to you today.”*_

John plucked the garment from the opening and shook it out. Even holding it, his eyes had trouble discerning it. “How do I put it on?”

_“Think “off” and the cloak will change.”_

John followed Atlantis’ direction although he felt silly thinking at a piece of clothing and the cloak changed to an ordinary piece of cloth. Able to see it clearly, John found the opening and slipped it on. The sleeves were deep enough to cover his hands, the hem barely swept the floor and the hood had a mask that could be pulled into place so he could observe without being seen. “Thanks, Atlantis.”

Shouldering his P90, he checked the terrain on his HUD once more then set out through the dimly lit city for his first sniper position. It was time to end this.

0o0o0o0o0o0o0

Cam adjusted his helmet as Walter dialed Atlantis. He hated wearing the thing, but they didn’t know what the insurgents were armed with so Landry had insisted on the full body armor.

“Alright, people, let’s get this done quick! Remember there are friendlies being held captive in the area. There is also another friendly loose in the city who will most likely be helping us.”

The Gate engaged and Landry gave them the go-ahead.

The Goa’uld shock grenade and the flash bangs were thrown then Cam waved his team forward. “Let’s go get ‘em!”

0o0o0o0o0o0o0

John reached his sniper nest unseen thanks to the maze of maintenance passages that ran throughout portions of the city. His nest was on a maintenance catwalk hidden in the shadows surrounding the iris to the Jumper Bay. From its vantage he could access the entire Gateroom.  He ran through his inventory once more, double-checking to ensure he had everything he might need. John knelt on the copper-green floor and was in the process of picking his first target when the peculiar whump sound of the Stargate engaging sounded. Glyphs lit in a familiar sequence to show the incoming address.

Stargate Command.

The shield was still down as it was one of the things he needed to reinitialize. Thanks to the security feed, he knew Chuck had slipped in the right keywords during the last check-in with the SGC.

As the Gate dialed, John considered what he would do if he was to storm Atlantis. If he was on the other side of the Gate, he'd pitch several flash bangs through the Gate then rush through while the enemy was stunned. He dug into his vest and pulled out a set of earplugs, shoving them into his ears just as the event horizon formed and a handful of objects flew through. He didn't recognize the larger item but the small silver canisters were very familiar. He pulled back seconds before the flash grenades went off.

0o0o0o0o0o0o0

Cam had been in several firefights since he'd joined the SGC, but none of them had prepared him for the chaos of retaking Atlantis. He'd led his troops through the Gate seconds after the grenades were set to explode. He took in the scene quickly even as the lead Marines were taking out their first targets.

“Aim high! Friendlies on the deck!”

Cam focused on clearing his section of the room and ignored the odd projectiles zipping by. He jerked a little in surprise when his next target fell with a neat hole in his forehead that none of his troops could have done. His own shot would have taken the man in the shoulder and no one else had a better angle. He guessed that it was John aiding their efforts from on high.

He dropped back to reload and gulp a bit of water. The body armor and helmets Landry had insisted on were hot and heavy. A wild burst of gunfire drew his attention to one of the newer Marines.

“Got that bastard! He won't be shooting any of us now!”

A cold feeling settled in the pit of his stomach as the Marine turned to his next target. He started to turn but stopped himself. The middle of a firefight was no place for conjecture so he made a mental note to check the location later.

Right now, he had bad guys to kill and a city to retake. He'd worry about everything - and everyone - else later.

0o0o0o0o0o0o0

From his perch into the rafters, John had an excellent view of the swirling combatants below. The intruders had cover, but so too did the Earth troops. Many of the Ufshaks had fallen during the initial rush while they were reeling from the effects of the grenades. As the Ufshaks started to recover, the soldiers had hastily dropped their bulging packs and taken cover behind the columns surrounding the Gate and continued taking out targets. John had used the cover of the grenades to pick off targets of opportunity then used his position to provide a shield for the relief troops.

One of the Marines below was exposed, having eased out of cover to pick off an Ufshak fighter. Another Ufshak had noticed and was lining up to take a shot. John spotted the impending calamity, aimed carefully and fired. Blood sprayed from the mortal wound in the Ufshak's throat, and the Marine spun in place, bloodlust visible on his face to John's enhanced vision. His transformation had left him with a few gifts to counterbalance his nightmares and enhanced senses were one of them.

Fearing the worst, John dropped his rifle then pushed back and twisted away from the opening, head turned away and his arms protecting his neck as the soldier opened fire. His bit his lip as he fought to not cry out at the burn as ricocheted bullets dug into his left leg. A second volley splattered across the ceiling and sent yet more projectiles into the maintenance tunnel. One glanced off the bone of his left arm, a second went deep while a third left a trail of fire as it grazed his forehead.

Warm blood trailing down his face, John fished a bandage from his tac vest and wrapped it around his head. He made a note to find out who that soldier was and send him back for more training.

Pushing the pain aside, John scooted forward and settled into his nest once more. This fight wasn’t over yet.

0o0o0o0o0o0o0

Cam lowered his rifle a fraction as Atlantis’ Gateroom quieted. His troops fanned out in pairs to cautiously check each body. Two pair freed the captives which had the advantage of telling who was dead easier when Lorne grabbed an LSD and made a circuit of the room in the midst of four burly Marines.

McKay was on the Ops deck restoring power and functionality to many of the systems that he had taken offline to hinder the invaders as much as possible. None of the intruders survived and Cam ordered the bodies searched then placed in cold storage until they could be tossed through the Gate back to where they came from. The freed Lanteans were being treated by the field medics and his people were taking care of the grisly work of bagging the bodies of the dead.

One of the field medics pounced on Lorne soon as he finished sorting the dead and sidelined the concussed major. With Lorne out of commission, Cam took charge and started getting things back to normal. They dialed the Alpha Site and gave them the all clear. Major Reynolds promised to inform Dr. Weir ASAP and to get the residents packing for the return.

Feeling that the situation was well in hand, Cam sat down on one of the chairs in the Ops area to rest for a moment, although he felt like he’d forgotten something important. He took his helmet off and propped it on the console in front of him before unhooking his canteen for a drink.

“Hey, watch where you set that!”

Cam turned to face McKay, who had come up behind him and uttered the complaint. “Relax, McKay, my helmet is not going to hurt anything.”

Rodney's mouth dropped open and he stared in amazement. Elizabeth, hearing a voice she thought she’d never hear again, turned around from where she stood and all but ran towards Rodney. She couldn’t believe her eyes. Cameron Mitchell was in front of them alive, looking as if nothing had happened in the last few weeks.

“What's wrong, McKay? Dr. Weir? You look like you've seen a ghost.”

“Y…y…you're supposed to be dead!”

“Rumors of my death have been greatly exaggerated,” Cam smirked.

Rodney started to reply but was cut off by an incoming wormhole. Every able bodied person in the room grabbed a weapon and took cover. Rodney and Elizabeth crouched down behind the dialing console low enough to present a smaller target while still being able to see if there was an IDC. He reached up and tapped the shield button then let out a muttered curse when it failed to engage.

“Reading Teyla’s IDC.”

The event horizon slurped as Teyla stepped through followed by three Marines pushing carts loaded with produce, Ronon at their heels. The quintet stopped dead at seeing the array of weapons aimed their way.

“We are alone,” Teyla said as the Stargate shut down behind them. “Has something happened while we were on Dahlia,” Teyla asked as she handed her pack off to one of the Marines who had stepped forward when the Gate shut down.

“You could say that,” Rodney said. “We had a booby-trapped Ancient device that messed up the systems then, just as I get it fixed, this bunch of greasy religious zealots pour through the Gate and take those of us that stayed behind prisoner.”

“I think you had some help there, didn’t you McKay,” Cam drawled.

“Well, Sheppard might have helped a little bit,” McKay conceded. Elizabeth simply shook her head at the Canadian’s antics.

“Uh huh, and the Grand Canyon is only a small crack.” Cam turned to Teyla and dialed up the wattage on his smile. “Colonel Cameron Mitchell. It’s a pleasure to meet you, ma’am.”

“Teyla Emmagan. This is Ronon Dex, Lieutenant Walker, and Corporals Smith and Jones.” Cam stood still as she gave him an appraising look. “You are Colonel Sheppard’s shield mate?”

“I am.”

Teyla bowed her head and Cam recognized the gesture as the Athosian greeting John had described. He returned the gesture and was rewarded with a smile.

0o0o0o0o0o0o0

John was relieved to be out of the maintenance tunnels.  Hopefully, Beckett was back in his domain or soon would be. He could feel the warmth trailing along his leg from beneath a hastily applied bandage where several of the awkward twists and turns had reopened his wounds, and he was looking forward to getting the lead out once everyone was back on base. The scent of cordite hung in the air, a rapidly vanishing remnant of the earlier firefight. He stalked into the Gateroom and stood at the top of the stairs to survey the aftermath. Noticing Teyla and Ronon speaking with the probable leader of the force, John moved down the stairs. His pace increased after the man shifted and John caught a glimpse of his face. He flew down the stairs and crossed the intervening distance to the small group standing before the Gate then shoved his .45 in the impostor’s face. 

“John, what is going on,” Teyla asked. “Colonel Mitchell was telling us of his encounter with the Sodan”

“Yeah, I’ll bet he was,” John grunted. “Cam Mitchell is dead. I don’t know who this sick bastard is, but the game is up. You have thirty seconds to tell me who you are and why you’re wearing Cameron Mitchell’s face before I decorate the Stargate with your brains.”

Cam spread his hands and held them out to show he wasn't holding a weapon. “John, it's me. Long story short, the Sodan saved me then trained me to fight in some bizarre revenge fight. The ambush was a setup by the Ori. I told my trainer a few things about them and he believed me. We fought and he used a drug to fake my death then let me go.”

John shook his head. “You could've made that up. With no witnesses, there's no one to contradict you.”

Cam took a shallow breath, followed by another. “What can I do to prove I'm me?”

Around them, the noise in the Gateroom had died down as everyone wanted to know the outcome.

“Tell me something that only Cam and I would know that's not written in a report.”

Cam thought hard but came up blank. “Like what?”

“What was the name of the bar where you and I first met?”

Cam put on his most charming smile. “We didn't meet in a bar. We met after the Battle of Antarctica when you saved my sorry, busted up ass from a hungry, displaced polar bear who was part of a scientific study. Second time we met was when I accompanied you to the hospital after your dinner party at Mort’s.”

“What happened the next day,” John asked as he held his .45 steady.

“Sam kidnapped me from my apartment in my underwear because you were missing and I was the last person to see you.”

The statement rang of truth, but John was still hesitant. He had a Cam shaped hole in his heart and didn't want to fill it only to find out that he'd been tricked. There was one way to find out. He stepped back and gestured towards the stairs. “I know a way to solve this, but I need privacy to do so. Ronon, take him to the conference room and keep an eye on him.”

He waited until the Maybe-Cam and Ronon were in the conference room before surveying the Gateroom. “Walker, Smith, Jones, get that fruit to the holding area. Abrams, Baldwin, as soon as that barricade is clear, start transferring the injured to the infirmary. Parker, Bouchard, Smythe, Jensen, I want you to work on clearing this deck. Gather all the equipment and sort it to the appropriate person or area. Butler, Bohannon, Butcher, Bradley, you're on guard duty. Anyone that can't find something to do, see Lorne. I'm certain he'll find you a task.” Lorne might be down, but his brain was still functioning.

John climbed the steps slowly, taking the time to center himself and slow his turbulent emotions in order to access the lessons Atlantis had poured into his head. With practice, he would be an exceptionally strong telepath, able to pluck things you'd forgotten five years ago from thin air, but for now he needed touch.


	9. Changes

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello all! I am so, so sorry for the posting delay. I have a couple of other stories I'm working on plus I'm remodeling my kitchen.  
> As always, my heartfelt thanks to DorothyOz for editing and sounding board. Thanks also to all of you! 
> 
> Now get to reading!!!

Teyla pondered John’s odd behavior as they awaited his presence in the conference room. She did not understand his reluctance to believe the input of his heart. Eyes could be fooled - that was a lesson learned early by those living under the shadow of the Wraith. She was curious as to what means he planned to use to verify Colonel Mitchell’s identity. Looking up, she caught Ronon’s gaze and, with a tilt of her head and an arched brow, asked if he knew anything more. Her friend answered with a tiny shake of his maned head.

The soft scuff of a boot drew her attention to the entryway. John stood outside, apparently taking a moment to rein in the threads of his iron self-control. Dark spots and dirt on his clothes offered evidence that the past several days had not been easy ones. She let her gaze wander further, looking him over to assess his physical condition. He was hunched ever so slightly as if nursing an injury and there were dark circles under his eyes over the scruff of his beard. She paused in her perusal at the look on his face: John appeared…scared.

The look of fear disappeared in a blink, leaving Teyla to question whether she had actually seen it or not. Under control once more, John swept into the conference room, the beautiful doors swing silently closed behind him. He crossed to his usual seat, but chose to remain standing.

The doors swung open and Rodney shot through them as they pivoted closed once more.

“I'm here to record this. Teyla and Conan are great, and the inhabitants of this city would accept their word if it turns out that their Golden Boy isn't who he's supposed to be, but the SGC will want more proof than Elizabeth telling them he’s a fake. So I'm here to record the proceedings,” Rodney said as he set up a camera and his tablet.

“No,” John said. 

“No? No what, Sheppard?”

“No camera. I'm freaked out enough by what I'm about to do. I don't need word of it getting back to Earth. I’m not gonna be anyone’s lab rat.”

“Oh,” Rodney said as he dropped into his seat. “Um, what are you going to do?”

“Read his mind.”

Rodney burst out laughing and Teyla frowned at the look on John's face. She decided to diffuse the situation before it grew heated. “Rodney, I do not believe that John is joking.”

“Teyla, this is Sheppard. If he was really telepathic, why hasn't he used it before now? Why not use it on Dagan and find out where they took the ZPM? Why not use it to locate Elia? Why not…”

“McKay, he’ll tell us if you shut up,” Ronon said.

“I didn’t use my … ability … during those events because I didn’t have it. The portion of my brain that controls it was closed off except for a tiny trickle that allowed me to withstand the Wraith Queens and communicate with Atlantis,” John explained. “Recent events changed that by ripping the channel wide open.”

“How …?”

“I’ll explain it later, Rodney. Carson needs to hear it too and I’m only gonna tell it once.” John rolled his chair closer and leaned in. “Now, if you don’t mind, I’d like to get this over with.”

0o0o0o0o0o0o0

John wiped his hands on his pants and winced as the motion aggravated some of his wounds. He scooted closer and leaned in. He needed a focus and he was never gonna hear the end of the only one that came to mind. Reaching out, he placed his fingers on Maybe-Cam’s face in sincere imitation of a Vulcan Mind Meld. “My mind to your mind. My thoughts to your thoughts.”

Eyes closed, John stumbled through Maybe-Cam’s memories and Atlantis assured him that he would get better with practice. He was looking for any hints of wrongness that might mark a construct or Replicator mimic. What he found was something totally different. He found the remains of the soul bond, a bond that was even now reaching out and trying to reconnect with its missing half.

John jerked away as if burned and hastily rolled his chair away from Cam.

“Sheppard?” He could sense Ronon tensing, ready to strike.

“It's C…Mitchell,” he said as he forced the tattered strands of his portion of the bond deep. He wasn't ready for this and needed some time. Feeling lightheaded, John took a deep breath and waited for the sensation to pass. Too much adrenaline, not enough sleep. Equilibrium restored, John shot to his feet and hurried from the room without another word.

0o0o0o0o0o0o0

Cam sat in stunned silence as John verified that he was who he said he was then lit out of the room like his tail was on fire. “John? What the hell?” He jumped to his feet to follow but was stopped by a gentle hand. “Teyla, I need to go after John.”

“I think it best if you give him some time. He was sorely hurt by the events that transpired and pushing him to return to your former state could be disastrous.”

Cam stared at her for a long moment then flopped back into his recently vacated seat, head back, arms hanging limply at his side. “I get what you're saying, but I wouldn't force him. I love him too much. Dammit, I just want him back!”

“And you will have him back. Only one who feels deeply can be hurt as much as John was and it can be difficult to see beyond the hurt,” Teyla said.

“Plus you're forgetting something,” Rodney chimed in unexpectedly.

“What?”

“You're thinking of this from your perspective,” Rodney told him. “You knew you were alive and you knew Sheppard was alive even though the bond broke. Sheppard didn't have that luxury. He felt you die. I was there and heard him scream. The only other time I've heard that much pain coming from someone was when he had an Iratus bug stuck to his neck draining his life away.” He shivered in remembrance. “So go easy on him and be nice if you ever want a hot shower or a cool room again.”

Cam stared at Rodney in shock for a moment, matching expressions of disbelief on Teyla and Ronon's faces. “Who are you and what did you do with the real McKay?”

“Oh, ha ha, very funny. Just because I could care less about most people's feelings doesn't mean I don't care at all. Sheppard is one of the few friends I have and I look out for my friends,” Rodney said as he tucked his tablet under his arm and hurried from the room.

Ronon stared at Cam for several heartbeats and Cam felt as though he were being weighed or interrogated. He returned the stare with one of his own, his sincerity openly visible for the other man to see. Having come to a decision, Ronon shoved off, slapped Cam on the shoulder and sailed from the room.

“Colonel, do not push John. After living in this wondrous city for the past year and more, I can tell you that matters of the heart are a sensitive subject for John. You will need to be patient and coax him as you would a small child. Become his friend once more and everything shall fall into place.”

“You can call me Cam or Cameron. Any friend of John's is a friend of mine,” he told her with a smile.

Teyla rose and graced him with a serene smile. “I am glad we met, Cameron. If you have need of anything, simply ask.”

“A copy of the John Sheppard care manual?”

Teyla cocked her head then smiled at the joke. “Alas, no, I am afraid that item is unavailable. You shall have to “wing it”.”

Cam sat for a few minutes to let the revelations sink in after Teyla left. The sound of the Stargate dialing interrupted his introspective. Cam slapped his hands on his knees and stood. “Well, it's time to get back to work.”

0o0o0o0o0o0o0

Mindful of his duty but feeling a need for privacy, John made a beeline for his office. He blanked the windows to near opacity then locked the door and put his back to the wall in the one corner where no one could see him from the outside. He closed his eyes and inhaled deeply and held it before releasing the breath slowly. Even now, he could feel the ragged end of the soul bond trying to reconnect, but he didn't need the distraction so he shoved it down deep. He knew he'd pay for it later, but he needed to be able to function without wanting to bend Cam over his desk, or the DHD, or the conference table, or simply throwing him to the floor and hammering his ass.

Opening his eyes, John rummaged in his desk and pulled out a packet of Tylenol. He dry-swallowed the pills, grimacing at the taste. Hopefully they'd muffle the clamor from his abused body for a while.

Reaching down, he plucked a bottle of water from his mini fridge. He opened the bottle and took a sip then upended it and chugged the rest, not realizing until that moment how thirsty he was. He tossed the bottle into the recycling bin where it would be collected, sanitized and refilled by the kitchen staff.

Immediate needs taken care of, he cleared his windows and unlocked the door. It was time to get back to work.

No sooner had he left his office than a hand latched onto his chameleon cloak and started tugging him towards the Ops area. “McKay, what …”

“I need you to reinitialize the consoles. For some reason, Atlantis refuses to allow me to take care of it.”

John smiled. “It's ‘cause she likes me best.” A warm breeze caressed his cheek as laughter rang in his head.

Rodney just waved his free hand as he towed John into Ops. “Whatever. But I'm the one who fixes her.”

“I know. She appreciates your efforts but finds it hard to fathom sometimes why you don't turn on the automated repair system.”

“I haven't turned it on because I…” John started counting to see how long it would take that comment to register. One. Two. Three. Four. Five. Six. “You mean there is an automated repair system?”

“Of course there is. Would I lie to you,” John asked with a dollop of puppy dog eyes.

“If it served your purposes, yes. And why am I only hearing about this now? Why didn't you tell me?”

“You never asked.”

“I shouldn't have to ask about important stuff like that,” Rodney announced in a huff.

“I'm not one of your minions. Besides, do you tell me about everything you find?”

“Well, no, but …”

John made a rolling gesture with one hand. “There you go then.” He strolled through the Ops area and grinned as the consoles lit at his presence. He was not surprised when Ronon took up station at his back like a tall shadow. He didn't know whether the protectiveness was a Ronon thing or a Satedan thing, but he was grateful to know that Chewie had his back.

He moved to the head of the stairs as the Stargate came to life, the glyphs chasing around the ring. A handful of scientists flowed through the event horizon chattering like starlings, tote bags and carry cases in their hands. John let his gaze skip from one to the next looking for signs of wrongness. They had just entered the main corridor leading to the infirmary and residential areas when a second flood of personnel returned to the city. This was Carson’s herd, the Scot passably imitating a Highlands shepherd as he chivvied them along. Carson’s head was on a swivel, and John knew the Scot was cataloging the visible and possible injuries. He was probably making a list of the personnel in the room so he’d know who to expect in the infirmary.

John shifted his weight and winced at the ache of sore muscles.

“Colonel,” Carson said as he gained the top of the stairs.

“Hey Doc. Enjoy the Alpha site?”

Carson grimaced. “No. It bloody well rained the entire time and I kept having to patch up bloody idiots who couldn't find anything to do except get into fights.”

John's eyes narrowed. “Which ones?”

Carson waved a hand in dismissal. “It was nae any of yer lads, Colonel. I think they're too afraid of what ye might be doing to them if they act out. ‘Twas several of Rodney’s minions decided to be numpties. Apparently being cooped up in an Ancient outpost that's more spacious than the Waldorf Astoria is a trial and there were several heated disagreements.”

“Well, make sure you send Rodney a list of the offenders and copy me and Lorne on it. We need to be aware of potential problems.”

“I will. I already have it, just need to send it,” Carson stated. “And speaking of potential problems, I want everyone who was held captive in the infirmary for an exam, yourself as well.”

“I wasn't…”

“Colonel… John, the bandage on yer forehead is pretty obvious plus I can see the bruises on yer face and the split knuckles, and if I can see those then there's probably worse I can’t. Don't make me order you.”

John heaved a sigh. “Fine. I'll be in before dinner.”

“See that you are, otherwise it'll be the big needles for you.”

John heaved a sigh of relief as Carson moved off, glad that the doc hadn’t forced the issue. More personnel flowed through the Gate and John stalked off to get them organized. He spied Cam as he left the conference room and headed for the men he’d brought with him. Good. It would keep him busy and give John a bit more time to wrap his head around the day’s revelations.

0o0o0o0o0o0o0

John felt lighter as some of the tension of the past week lifted from his shoulders as the last of the personnel returned from the Alpha site. He pushed aside the exhaustion that kept threatening to sweep over him as he briefed Major Waters on which teams were doing what and what the priorities were when the current tasks were complete. The SGC had been notified between dial-ins from the Alpha site and Landry was quite pleased to hear there’d been no fatalities.

He took one final glance around the Gate room, catching Elizabeth’s eye as his gaze swept across her office. He acknowledged her with a quick nod and a brief smile which she returned. Cane in hand, Elizabeth had hobbled back to the city during the second wave of personnel. Knowing her, she was probably composing her report to Stargate Command, or at least writing a rough draft. Ronon had slipped off a short while ago to go for a run – trade missions always left him edgy. Seeing that everything was as it should be, he signaled Waters that he was going off duty and headed for the infirmary.

0o0o0o0o0o0o0

Carson huffed in annoyance as he checked the time on his tablet. All of the personnel who’d been present during the invasion had been examined, treated and in most cases released to their quarters with one exception. Motion at the door caught his attention and he caught a glimpse of unruly dark hair. His last patient had finally arrived.

Carson hurried from his office and intercepted John before one of the others did. It wasn’t that he didn’t trust them, but John’s high pain threshold meant he wasn’t always aware of injuries and things could be missed. “Colonel, have a seat,” he said as he gently steered John towards an exam area. He turned to close the curtains and found John still standing by the gurney. “C’mon, Colonel, I haven’t all day.”

John ducked his head and Carson could’ve sworn he was nervous or embarrassed. “Um, I … I can’t, Doc.”

“Well, why not?”

“My leg …”

His voice trailed off and Carson knelt to see what the problem was. The moment his fingers made contact with the back of the Colonel’s pant leg, Carson knew there was trouble. He shifted and pushed the long cloak John was wearing out of the way. From mid-thigh down, the back of his pants were soaked in blood. He was surprised the man was still walking. With the cloak out of the way, he could see the bandages wrapped around the leg. Standing, Carson helped John remove the silky cloak along with his vest and jacket.

“If I lower the gurney, do you think you can sit?”

“Yeah.”

Carson scrutinized John’s face and made a decision. Turning, he called out to one of his nurses. “Leon, I need you.”

The nurse who shouldered his way through the curtains rivaled Ronon for sheer size. “Yes, Doc?”

“I need you to help me ease Colonel Sheppard onto this gurney then onto his right side.” Carson moved to the backside behind John as Leon supported John from the front and they got him where Carson wanted him. Leon stayed and cut John out of his uniform as Carson examined the wounds.

“How did this happen?”

John grunted as Carson hit a tender spot. “I was … maintenance shaft in ceiling … of Gate Room. One of C… Mitchell’s Marines mistook me for an enemy. I ducked but … ricochets got me.”

Carson muttered a few choice Gaelic expletives under his breath. “Bloody idiot. Any one that loses their head like that in combat doesnae need ta be in combat.”

“Well Colonel, looks like you’re in for a wee spot of surgery,” Carson said as Leon started an IV.

“Dammit. Can’t you just do it with a local?”

“Colonel, I am not going to try to remove two possibly damaged bullets from your leg and another from your arm using only a local anesthetic. I know you have a high pain threshold and a strong will, but I doubt you could hold still for everything I need to do.”

The shoulder beneath his hand heaved. “Fine. Let’s get it over with.”

“Rest easy, lad. It’ll be over afore you know it.” Carson fetched the necessary sedative and injected it into his patient’s IV. “Leon, alert Marie to prep the OR while I scrub in.”

0o0o0o0o0o0o0

Cam hated to admit defeat, but that’s exactly what had happened. He’d corralled one of the Gate Room techs into calling up the security video of the fight so he could locate the Marine who’d fired at the ceiling where he thought John had participated from. They’d had to go through a lot of angles before he got a good look at the soldier in question, Corporal Michael Odom.

Odom had not been with the SGC long. His record until now had been one of exemplary service. He needed to talk to John first before anything else was done.

Which brought him back to his defeat. He could not find John. The Doppler sense they shared was unavailable due to the state of their bond and John was absent from the public areas. Ronon had disappeared as had Teyla. McKay was busy indulging in his favorite pastime of minion berating, which meant Cam was on his own. Squaring his shoulders, he went back to the tech who'd helped him with the security feeds. “Liang, can you locate Colonel Sheppard for me?”

“Sure, he's in the infirmary. Doc Beckett called a short time ago to inform Doctor Weir.”

Cam shivered as a chill marched up his spine. “Do you know his condition?”

“No. Beckett hasn't called with that yet. Your best bet for information is to go to the infirmary and wait.”

“Thanks, I'll do that.”

0o0o0o0o0o0o0

Cam made his way to the infirmary and ducked inside. Once there, he stood off to one side as he looked for Beckett. After several minutes, he caught sight of the Scot giving instructions to one of his nurses. He edged closer but stayed far enough back to not be accused of eavesdropping. He looked around the infirmary while waiting on Beckett. The room was big, bright and airy.

“Can I help ye, Colonel?”

Cam jerked his attention back to his task. “Um, I was wondering how John is doing.”

Carson took a deep breath and ran a hand through his short cropped hair. “The Colonel is in Recovery right now. I just spent the last few hours patching holes up in the bloody idiot’s hide. If I’d known he had two bullets in his leg and another in his arm, I would’ve had Ronon throw him over his shoulder and carry him down here. I swear sometimes he has more hair than sense.”

Cam smiled at that. He knew how hairy John was. “Can I see him?”

“Briefly, but I cannot allow ye to stay or touch him.” He held up a hand to stall the protest. “I know the state of your Bond, and I know you want to re-establish it and that’s why I cannot allow you to remain. The two of you need privacy to fix what’s between you and you won’t find that here.”

Cam didn’t like it, but Beckett made sense. He nodded his assent then followed the doctor to the Recovery area. The nook where John lay was dimly lit in deference to its occupant. He lay propped on his side, the bulge of bandages on his left leg visible beneath the blanket covering him, and obvious on his left arm with an IV and a unit of blood feeding into his right. Cam allowed his gaze to travel to John’s face and his heart broke at what he saw. John was pale, the normally fluffy hair that Cam loved to run his fingers through drooped dispiritedly, with dark circles standing out like bruises beneath his eyes. “How long are you going to keep him?”

Carson crossed his arms. “Normally, I’d keep a patient with his injuries three to four days to make certain he was well on the road to recovery. However, by the third day, our Colonel will be plotting escape attempts or holding staff meetings in the middle of the ward. So, barring infection, I’ll probably release him to his quarter’s tomorrow evening.”

Cam held out his hand and Carson completed the clasp. “Thanks for taking good care of John through all this.”

“You’re welcome, lad. I hope the two o’ ye work this out. He’s family and I hate to see him hurting so badly.”

0o0o0o0o0o0o0

Evan Lorne contemplated his options while eating his breakfast as he watched Cameron Mitchell across the cafeteria. He’d stopped in to the infirmary to check on Colonel Sheppard and been told to wait as Beckett was doing his morning wound checks.

“Teyla, you here to see Colonel Sheppard as well?”

“I am. Hopefully, Carson will relent and let us sit with John as is our usual practice.”

“Does he end up here a lot,” Evan asked with trepidation. He’d only been on Atlantis a short time and, despite the after action reports he’d read while on Earth and en-route to Pegasus, things had been pretty calm. Since they’d returned, Sheppard’s only long infirmary trips had been the bug incident and the fallout from the fateful trip to Pangol.

“Often enough, unfortunately. Colonel Sheppard leads by example and is often in the thick of it when relations become unfriendly. I was rather surprised when Carson refused to let any of us stay with John last night.”

That was unusual. It was common practice that team members rotated staying with an injured teammate. For Beckett to refuse it meant there were unusual circumstances. “Teyla, it may not be you. I have a feeling that he barred all visitors to the Colonel’s bedside in the spirit of fairness.”

“Ah, it is because of Cameron.”

Evan nodded. “As I understand it, all it took the first time they bonded was a simple touch.”

“Aye, and I didna want it happenin’ whilst the Colonel is not aware,” Carson added as he joined them. “And speaking of Colonel Mitchell, can you keep him busy so he’s not haunting my infirmary?”

Evan nodded as a grin appeared on his face. “I have just the thing.”


	10. Ties that Bind

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Hello, my friends! To celebrate my birthday, here is another gift for all of you! This is a chapter many of you have been eagerly waiting for!   
> As always, heaps of thanks go to DorothyOz for betaing this story!  
> Enjoy!!

#  Chapter 10 – Ties that Bind

Elizabeth glanced to her right at her apparently asleep Military Commander. Carson had recommended that she wait to do this, but she’d decided otherwise. John had participated during the first part of the routine briefing, but once the topics switched over to the science side, he’d gone quiet. She caught Teyla’s attention and motioned towards John with her chin, asking the Athosian a silent question. Teyla nodded in response. John was definitely asleep. They both knew that if the alarm sounded, he’d be up and out the door with the rest of them. However, until the next emergency it seemed like the fierce Military Commander of Atlantis was going to sleep soundly. Carson was right, they should have waited.

She let her eyes roam the table, taking the measure of its inhabitants. Rodney and Radek were huddled over their laptops at one end, dark circles under their eyes telling of long shifts with little sleep; Carson reading his notes to her left while Mitchell and Lorne occupied the side opposite John, large mugs of coffee to hand. Mitchell’s gaze mirrored her own, concern writ large in his expressive face with a large helping of longing and desire mixed in.

“Does anyone have anything to add before we move on to current events,” she asked. No’s and shaken heads, along with a soft snore, answered her. “Alright, first off, we need to revise our current rules regarding artifacts. Any suggestions?”

“Ah, I believe we should set up an isolated lab with own computers to test artifacts,” Radek said.

Elizabeth nodded. “That sounds reasonable. I presume this lab would be off the network?”

“Ano … Yes. I also recommend we bring in a bílá klobouk  … that is, how you say,” Radek snapped his fingers as his English momentarily failed him, “a white-hat hacker.”

“Don’t be ridiculous,” Rodney snapped. “We don’t need a hacker of any color hat. Myself, Miko, you, and a few others are perfectly capable of checking some 10,000-year-old Ancient doodads for viruses.”

“Don’t be hustý! Yes, you are genius, but,”

“Yes, I am a genius, thank you for noticing. That means that, unlike many of the so-called scientists around here, that I actually am capable of performing multiple tasks,” Rodney said heatedly.

Radek pushed his glasses up. “I did not say you were incapable of multi-tasking. But, you are only one person. I have looked at code of device while you were busy fixing city systems. The virus was camouflaged. I would not have found it except I was looking. Plus, there are only so many hours in day. Are you planning to give up sleeping? Or perhaps you stay in city and give up missions?”

Elizabeth winced. The last was a low blow and Radek knew it. For all his complaints, Rodney enjoyed going off-world with John, Teyla and Ronon.

“We don’t go on missions every day, which means I have plenty of time to read through code between experiments.”

Radek thrust up a pointed finger. “That is point I am trying to make! You want to do this along with other jobs. What happens when you miss something because you were tired?”

Rodney crossed his arms and leaned back to glare at his second in command. “I won’t.”

Enough was enough. Elizabeth could see the dangerous glint in Radek’s eyes and the challenging one in Rodney’s. Time to nip this in the bud. “Rodney, …”

“McKay, Zelenka’s right.”

Elizabeth glanced over to see John awake.

“You’re an excellent programmer. So’re Zelenka, Miko and some of the others. But you use computers for useful or constructive means, and that gives you certain blind spots. A white-hat is a hacker that specializes in finding weak spots or viruses and neutralizing them.”

“Um, I don’t know if this will help,” Mitchell interjected from across the table, “but that’s how we do it at the SGC. Carter and Lee are both great programmers, but there aren’t enough hours in the day for them to crack the programming of every piece of tech we find. Because the Ori are such sneaky bastards, Landry made it SOP that all artifacts, working or not, are taken to an off-world site where a dedicated hacker team examines them.”

“Thank you, Colonel Mitchell, for the useful information. Unless there are any objections,” and here she gave Rodney a baleful glare, “this is now mission protocol. Any objects or artifacts are to be taken to a to-be-designated off-world site where they will be examined by a hacker team before coming to Atlantis. John, Rodney, you are in charge of disseminating this to your respective departments. Rodney, I also want you and Radek to put together a short list of suitable personnel.”

“Fine. We’ll also start looking at potential sites to put this group,” Rodney said, his irritation still noticeable.

“Mmm, how ‘bout the outpost on P2Y-1023,” John asked.

From the slight slur in his voice, he was on the verge of losing his battle to sleep once more.

“Which planet is that,” Rodney asked. “You know I have trouble telling them apart.”

“Niagara, the one with the waterfalls.”

John’s description pinged it for Elizabeth as well. “That sounds perfect, Rodney. As I recall, it has a concealed outpost, lots of power with a functional shield, and the gate is inaccessible to Darts.” She jotted down a few notes on her laptop then crossed her hands on the table, her expression serious. “While reviewing the security footage recorded during the recent occupation, I noticed many instances of bravery and courage, which will be rewarded. However, I also noticed a very troubling event.” She took a deep breath then aimed her gaze John’s way. For his part, even though he hadn’t moved from his comfortable slouch, John’s eyes were open and focused on her. “During the retaking of Atlantis, it seems there was an incident of friendly fire.”

“Elizabeth, that’s a military matter and it will be dealt with.”

“I know. I’m not trying to usurp your authority John, but the SGC’s policy for tribunals does allow for civilian members.”

“Fine, I’ll let you know when I schedule it,” John told her.

Elizabeth winced inwardly. He wasn’t going to like her next statement. “I’ve already taken the liberty of having him brought here so we can get this distasteful episode out of the way.”

0o0o0o0o0o0o0

John was not happy and he knew Elizabeth could tell. He’d wanted to discuss the situation with Lorne and Cam first. He straightened in his chair and set his feet on the floor, wincing as the stitches in his leg pulled. At least he had on khaki’s instead of the sweats he preferred when he was injured.

The doors swung open and a Marine marched through. Coming to a stop in the mouth of the open side of the table, the soldier came to attention and saluted. “Corporal Michael Odom, reporting as ordered sir.”

“Corporal Odom, thank you for coming,” John said smoothly. “You are here because we have questions about an incident during the recent eviction proceeding.”

“Sir. I’ll be glad to answer any questions you may have.”

John gestured for Elizabeth to play the footage. Since she’d set it up, he knew she had the footage cued for viewing. The big screen flickered as it changed to local feed. As the footage came up, he found himself calculating the precise location where the camera was located on the edge of the Ops deck.

They watched as Cam’s team poured through the Gate behind the stun grenades and engaged the Ufshaks. Elizabeth stopped the playback right as Odom turned and fired.

“Corporal Odom, why did you turn and fire at the ceiling,” John asked.

“A shot came over my shoulder and took out the intruder in front of me. I believed that an insurgent had set up a sniper’s nest in the ceiling, Sir.”

“Were you not briefed, before leaving Earth, that there was at least one friendly free who would be assisting in retaking the city,” John inquired, his voice cold.

Odom straightened. “Yes, Sir. That was part of the briefing delivered by Colonel Mitchell. We were informed that friendlies were being held in the Gate room itself and that there was at least one friendly loose in the city.”

“Is it possible, Corporal, that instead of shooting an enemy sniper, that you could have fired upon a friendly one,” John asked as he leaned back and crossed his arms, his black tee making the white bandages on his arm stand out. Odom’s gaze followed the motion and he saw the wince when the kid put two and two together.

“Sir, it is possible that, in the heat of battle, I accidentally mistook a friendly position for an enemy. Because of my lapse, I will accept any punishment you deem fit.”

John’s laptop bleeped with two incoming messages. He read them and nodded then stood. “Corporal Odom, my decision is that you are to submit to a full psychological examination. Afterward, if you are found fit to continue to be a United States Marine, you are to report back to Camp Lejeune for a refresher course in Advanced Combat.”

“Yes, Sir. Will I be allowed to remain in the SGC?”

“That will be up to Generals Landry and O’Neill.”

Odom saluted sharply. “Yes, Sir. Thank you, Sir.”

“And Corporal,” John captured his attention once more.

“Sir?”

“Pay attention,” he said, his voice hard, “because next time I’ll put you down. You won’t have to worry about retraining.”

Odom paled and saluted again before fleeing as fast as he could.

Once Odom was gone, John glanced down at Elizabeth. “Anything else you need me for?”

“No, John. Get some rest.”

John could read the shock and surprise in Elizabeth’s expression at the way he handled Odom, but the SGC did not have time for coddling. A lot of people thought that since he was such an easy-going person that he was a pushover. The fluffy hair and loose BDU’s served as camouflage for the iron core beneath. A lot of people had underestimated him and he saw no reason to change now.

He limped back to his room, Ronon shadowing him until his door closed and locked. With the locked door at his back, he set the cane against his nightstand, toed off his shoes then flopped onto his bed. Sleep welcomed him with open arms soon after.

 

0o0o0o0o0o0o0

John woke with a start and laid still as his pulse slowed, trying to figure out what woke him. Rubbing his sore eyes, he shifted his head on his pillow to check his alarm: 1745 hours - nope, not time for more pills yet. It was dinner time, but he preferred to eat later when nursing injuries unless his team was with him, which they weren’t today. Teyla and Cam had brought breakfast and Teyla had informed him that she, along with Rodney and Ronon, were going with Stackhouse to evaluate an Ancient outpost. Of course, he already knew, but he didn’t tell her that. Even injured and off-duty, Lorne made sure he was kept in the loop.

He wriggled to go back to sleep, but it eluded him and he decided that a trip to the little Colonel’s room was appropriate. A couple of grunts and heartfelt curses saw him standing. He was halfway to his bathroom when his door chime sounded. “Who the hell?” Except for Carson, no one had stopped by or called him since his team had left that morning. Altering course, he stepped into the hallway where he could see the door. Reaching out, he opened the door with a thought to find Cam on the other side, so gorgeous in the bright lights of the corridor that John’s heart skipped a beat.

“John, may I come in? I brought dinner.” This was the third time Cam had shown up at his door since his release from Carson’s clutches. Last night, his entire team had descended on him, Cam in tow, for a slightly late dinner. Then this morning with Teyla and now here he was again. He considered reading Cam’s thoughts again, but quickly squashed that idea. What needed to be said between them needed to start out loud.

“Yeah, come on in.” Before he’d left the infirmary, both Elizabeth and Carson had recommended that he settle his situation with Cam in the very near future. Neither one had asked him whether he was going to renew the Bond; they had simply offered their support in whatever decision he made.

He brought the lights up with a wisp of will and waved a lazy hand at the main room. “Make yourself comfortable and I’ll be back in a minute.” Ducking back into his bedroom, John took care of his needs then pulled on a pair of sweatpants and a long sleeved flannel shirt before hobbling out to talk.

Cam was sitting on one of the Ancient couches he had; John settled on the other where the mound of pillows Teyla had arranged for him yesterday awaited his sore body; covered trays taking up space on his table. “Thanks for bringing my dinner.”

“Um, yeah. I figured you would be pretty hesitant about making the trek to the mess hall without a buffer and this saves somebody having to bring it to you.”

John sat on the edge of the cushion so he wouldn’t press on the stitches in the back of his leg. “Thanks.” He uncovered his tray as Cam did the same and started eating.

Cam kept up small talk while they ate, sharing some of the interesting tidbits from the latest batch of reports that Lorne had shanghaied him into helping with, both of them ignoring the pink elephant in the room for a time.

They finished at nearly the same time. Cam took the trays and set them to one side. “So, what’s on your mind?”

“Our bond.” Cam leaned forward, longing evident in his posture. “Look, I know you’re hurting, but I … we need to settle this. I want to be with you, but I don’t want to pressure you. Doctor Beckett sent me the files he dug from the database about the Soul Bonds and I read them yesterday. If we don’t renew the bond, it will eventually weaken, but it would always be there. But, if we go that route and ever come into physical contact again, the bond would re-forge.”

“I take it you don’t want that,” John said, his voice flat.

“No. I want to be with you, but I’m not going to pressure you. If you want our relationship to be platonic for a while, then I’m willing to go along with that. Or if you just want to be friends. I don’t care as long as you and I are together.”

John was silent for a time. “It hurt,” he whispered. “When you … died, it hurt so bad that I just wanted to curl up and die.” He raised his head and lowered his mask to let Cam see his pain. “I seriously considered taking a Jumper and going AWOL. There're a couple of functional outposts I could get to on worlds the Wraith can't or don't visit where I could've lived the rest of my life.”

“John, I …”

“Don't. Don't say you're sorry. We both know it could happen again at any time. Do you know why I didn't? Love and Duty. It was because of my love for you and my duty to this city and its people.” John shoved himself upright and started pacing, too full of nervous energy to stay still.

“I don’t know what to say,” Cam admitted.

John halted in front of Cam. “I love you so much. Living without you these past weeks has been an unending agony. When the bond shredded, it tore a huge chunk out of my soul and took all of my joy and happiness with it. I was lost without you.”

0o0o0o0o0o0o0

Cam was speechless. John’s family had advised him not to push and he wasn’t. When he’d volunteered to bring John his dinner, all he’d hoped for was to talk and get back to being friends. He hadn’t expected John to open his floodgates and let everything out.

Seeing the pain in John’s eyes and hearing it in his voice awakened every protective instinct he owned. John was not a person who normally needed guarding, but in his current state, there was something about him, an air of fragility that made Cam’s hands itch to hold him. But, until they re-forged the bond, he couldn’t even shake John’s hand or pat him on the shoulder.

When John ceased his lurching pacing, he stood and reached out instinctively before reality smacked him as his Momma would have and he let his arms drop.

“John, I want to hold you so badly right now that it hurts,” Cam told him. “I want to wrap my arms around you and ease the pain in your heart. An unexpected source reminded me that I knew you were still alive, but that you didn’t have that piece of information where I was concerned.” He took a step back, head held high and hands up in supplication. “The entire time I was with the Sodan all I could think about was returning to you. I will be whatever you need, do whatever you want as long as it lets me erase the pain in your eyes.”

0o0o0o0o0o0

John closed his eyes as his emotions grew overwhelming. He felt as though he’d been set adrift, like the time Mitch and Dex had talked him into going sailing on leave. They’d been on Lake Superior when a sudden gale blew in and swamped their boat. They’d drifted for several hours before a Coast Guard Cutter found them and towed them in. All three of them ended up on medical leave for a month as they recovered from exposure and varying degrees of pneumonia.

As his mind grew calm, John realized that there was only one choice he could truly live with. Opening his eyes, he stepped into the circle of Cam’s arms for a long overdue kiss, Cam’s arms coming up automatically to capture John and pull him in tight. Cam’s lips parted even as his tongue sought entrance, molding to his own with a strength born of love and desire. He released a muffled cry, echoed by Cam, as fire raced through his body, setting each vein and nerve alight with its passage.

Starved for touch, John broke the kiss with a gasp. “Clothes.” He shucked out of his shirts as Cam did the same, then Cam drew him into a searing kiss that fanned the flames of their desire higher until both were lost in the conflagration.

0o0o0o0o0o0o0

Carson straightened and flexed his shoulders back as Teyla slid from the exam table. “All done, lass. Tests are all negative,” he said as he took off his lab coat and tossed it in the laundry bin then grabbed his med kit. “Now, off with all of you. I have other patients to see to.”

“Are you on your way to see John,” Teyla asked as she slipped her jacket on.

“Yes. Colonel Mitchell took the lad his dinner and I need to stop in and perform a wound check.”

Teyla nodded, a small smile on her face. “If Cameron is still there, perhaps we can convince him and John to join us for dessert.”

“That’s a fine idea. The Colonel needs to get out and it’s late enough that there’ll be few people about,” Carson said as they exited the infirmary.

The quartet crowded into the transporter for transfer to the unit nearest John’s quarters. Spilling out, they ambled along a beautiful sun-streaked corridor. After several hours on his feet, Carson did wish the Colonel’s quarters were still near a transporter, but he couldn’t fault the lad for his current location. His suite was in the Control Tower’s nearest neighbor and commanded a beautiful view of the city. It was also logical from a defensive position. There were several causeways that connected it to the main tower as well as passages through the foundation.

Reaching John’s quarters, Carson swiped his hand across the glowing blue crystals beside the door to announce his presence. When the door didn’t open after a minute, Carson tried again. “The Colonel might be asleep.”

“Well, he’s not out skateboarding in the corridors,” Rodney huffed.

Carson reached out and triggered the chime a third time.

“Really, Carson, if the man slept through that then he needs to go back to boot camp,” Rodney said as he pushed Carson aside. He pried the cover off and rearranged the crystals. Teyla was to his left, Carson on his right with Ronon hovering behind him as the door silently slid open.

“Colonel? It’s Carson.” Carson called as he stepped through the doorway, having no desire to get shot for making a house call. A flickering light drew his attention near the end of the hallway. Teyla took the lead as they crept towards the source. Carson watched as she poked her head around the corner then straightened as she relaxed her guard. Carson hurried to her side, his curiosity piqued. It took a moment for his mind to piece together what he was seeing, but when it did he crossed his arms and smiled as he took in the tableau before him.

Nude to the waist, John and Cameron were lost in a kiss as a silver cloud swirled around them, each embracing the other as a drowning man reaches for a life preserver.

Carson smiled and withdrew from the door, Teyla a lithe shadow at his side.

“Well, is he alright,” Rodney called from the doorway. “What’s with the light, Sheppard not pay his light bill? Did his parasitic hair finally devour him?”

“Don’t let him hear you say that. You know how he is about his hair,” Ronon rumbled from behind him.

“Whatever.” Carson could picture the hand wave and eye roll that accompanied that statement.

“No, Rodney, the Colonel is just fine, just fine indeed,” Carson stated as he drew Teyla with him and chivvied the other two out, making certain to lock the door as they left.

0o0o0o0o0o0o0

After parting ways from the Colonel’s team, Carson activated his radio. “Beckett to Doctor Weir.”

_“Weir here, go ahead Carson.”_

“I have news for you that couldna wait.”

 _“Oh, has something happened that I need to be aware of,”_ Elizabeth asked.

Carson could no longer keep the joy out of his voice. “Aye. The situation with Colonel Sheppard has resolved itself nicely.”

Silence met his announcement as Elizabeth worked through his words.

_“Are you telling me John and Colonel Mitchell …”_

“Aye. They were quite happy when we discovered them.”

_“That’s wonderful. Anything else?”_

“Nay, lass. Have a good evening. Beckett out.”

_“Goodnight Carson. Weir out.”_

0o0o0o0o0o0o0

_Running. He was running through trees, ducking as low branches tugged at his hair. His prey was ahead; he could see glimpses of her pale clothing as she ran. Entering a clearing, he paused, senses alert. His prey was close. A shrill scream sounded as a dark blur slammed into him. He blocked her wild blows as she screamed in rage. Pain lanced through his arm as she latched on in an attempt to feed. Instead, he watched in horror as the blood slowed then disappeared as blue scales spread like wildfire along his flesh. The female watched as he transformed, her body language shifting from fight to interest. She watched as if mesmerized as he flexed and checked out his new body, and was still entranced when he ripped her head off, blood fountaining from severed arteries to baptize his rebirth._

**** Flash ****

_Instincts warred within him, fight or flight singing through tense muscles as he moved through a forest of dim, close-packed trees. Figures surrounded him, one part of his mind finding comfort in their escort while the other part wished to crush, tear and rend, to feel their hot blood running down his throat as their lives ran out. Ahead, cool darkness beckoned to the insect while the human thought of the cave as his last chance at salvation._

**** Flash ****

_He leaped, clinging to the container of eggs in his hand. The nest’s inhabitants were becoming agitated as he moved through them, many of them preparing to attack. He ran, shooting from the cave into his escort, bodies flying as the insect took over. Blood spattered as he tore them limb from limb, dimly remembered faces disappearing beneath a blanket of blood._

**** Flash ****

_Screams sounded as he dropped into the midst of those hunting him. Glimpses of pale flesh and gray uniforms provoked flashes of memory that only served to spur him on. Feelings of revulsion and rejection eroded any thoughts of mercy as he lashed out. Sprays of blood followed sweeps of blue scaled arms as black claws ripped throats and severed arteries. As the last pursuer fell at his feet, he straightened from his battle crouch and roared his victory to the glass and stone city. Kneeling, he scooped up chunks of his vanquished foes and devoured them._

_Rising once more, he raised his head and scented the air. There were still more of the soft, pale creatures in his territory. The Hunter paused as a flash of blue caught his eye. Moving closer, he raised his hand to check out the newcomer and the newcomer did the same. A barely remembered word floated to mind._ Mirror _. Yellow eyes full of madness and intelligence stared at him from dark blue flesh beneath a mass of thick black spikes. A slender fist struck out and shattered the reflection as he bellowed his dominance to all who would oppose him._

Cam bolted upright, echoes of a scream in his head, the bed bouncing beneath him. A fist impacted his leg and Cam looked over to see John thrashing in the throes of a nightmare as well. Wary of flying fists, Cam placed his hand on John’s near shoulder at the same time he called his name. John startled awake and lay still panting as his heart slowed its headlong race.

“Looks like your nightmare was as bad as mine,” Cam said as he shivered in remembrance. “Do you want to talk about it?”

“Not really.”

Cam climbed out of bed and stood looking around. “Where’s your mini fridge?”

“Don’t have one. I’ve got something better,” John said as he waved his hand at a blank section of wall. A glowing line appeared and the entire section of wall slid outwards amidst wisps of fog to reveal racks and shelves.

“Oh, that is cool! The Ancients built something useful,” Cam said as he pulled out a beer. He checked the clock and pulled out another. “How do you close it?”

“Think ‘ _close’_ at it.”

Cam felt kind of silly thinking at a fridge, but he did it and was happy when the appliance responded. He clambered back into bed and handed John one of the beers. “From now on, I’m swearing off reading mission reports before bed.”

“Why?”

“I think they gave me the nightmares.” He shuddered again. “It was like a low-budget horror movie, y’ know, the kind where the story jumps around. There was a lot of blood and body parts flying around along with some crazy-assed creatures.”

“Hmm.”

“The strangest thing is that it seemed so … real, like I'd been to these places before.”

John grunted then popped the top on his beer and drank about half. “Had you?”

Cam shook his head. “No. None of them were familiar. Then there were the feelings of Déjà vu when I’d catch glimpses of certain colors or things.”

“What kind of things,” John asked.

“In part of it, I dreamt I was in a cave, and there were people with me and the cave was filled with some kind of weird lobster looking thing. I felt like … like I wasn’t fully human, and I had this urge to slaughter the people with me, which was strange because I also felt like they were friends. And I have to say the blue scales really freaked me out. They looked great on Rebecca Romjin but they weren’t meant for flyboys from Kansas.”

A crash sounded and Cam looked over to see John swaying in place, open hand outstretched towards the nightstand on his side. “John? What’s wrong?”

“The girl you were chasing was a Wraith. You tore her apart then howled your victory to the distant stars.”

Cam felt himself go pale. “How …”

“Then you were in a different forest, leaping to collect eggs from a rival nest. Leaving the cave, you ran through the people waiting outside waiting for you. A small part of your brain thought they looked familiar, even as their blood rained down upon you,” John whispered.

Cam grabbed John by the shoulders and shook him. “John, how do you know my dream?”

John swiveled his head and Cam let out a gasp of shock. John’s warm hazel eyes were flat and cold, their shine gone in the face of recalled horror.

“Remember what happened in the conference room? I told you I was going to read your mind.”

“But how did it happen,” Cam asked as he climbed out of bed and cleaned up the spill, grateful that the bottle hadn’t shattered.

“I already had the potential for the ability due to the Ancient gene, and it was slowly opening due to living here. According to Atlantis, when the bond broke, the energy I was sending you flowed back into me. It caused a feedback loop which tore open my gift. Pain and grief blocked it which allowed that part of my mind to heal,” John told him, his voice thick with repressed emotions.

Pieces clicked in his head. “So I was experiencing your nightmare.”

John nodded.

“Oh, baby.” Cam pulled John towards him and tucked him in close. “I hate to ask, but how much was real? And where did the blue scales come from?”

“The Wraith, her name was Elia, and the pursuit through the forest was real. She wanted to be human and tried a retrovirus Carson was working on. It took away the humanity she had.” John rubbed a scar on his right forearm that Cam hadn’t seen before. Thinking back to the dream, he realized it was in the same spot the Wraith had fed from in the dream.

“The blue scales?”

John was silent for a long moment and Cam feared he’d pushed too hard. He started to say it didn’t matter when John spoke up.

“She tried to feed on me,” he said as he rubbed the scar again. “When a Wraith feeds, it injects its victim with an enzyme to strengthen them. Hers was full of the retrovirus and it … I was over 90% bug when they realized I was the key to my own salvation.”

“Sounds like a hell of a tale.”

“It’s a long one. Sure you wanna hear it?”

“Yes. I need to hear it and … I think you need to tell it. No one else will hear any of it from my lips.”

“Just remember, you asked for it.”

0o0o0o0o0o0o0

Cam woke to heat and light. The light was easy – several stray sunbeams had crept through chinks in John’s curtains. The heat part left him confused until he tried to move. At that point, his brain registered the weight along his right side where he was the warmest. He turned his head and felt soft spikes tickling his neck and jaw. Rolling his eyes, Cam made out John, his lean frame pressed against Cam’s side, head on his shoulder, right arm thrown across Cam’s chest and his leg intertwined with Cam’s.

Loathe as he was to disturb John, nature was calling most urgently. Cam hadn’t wet the bed since he was two and didn’t plan to start now. He shifted John’s arm so it lay along his own body then grabbed a pillow with his left hand and drew it under John’s head as he withdrew his arm. Freed, he was able to sit up and grab another pillow to rest John’s leg on. He slipped off the bed and retrieved the covers from the floor on his side of the bed and draped them over John. He was determined to let him sleep as long as possible since he figured he hadn’t gotten much rest during the last several horrible weeks.

The storytelling last night hadn’t helped either. Dawn was staining the horizon by the time they went to sleep. Having heard the entire sordid story, Cam could see why John had nightmares. After his crash in Antarctica, he’d had his fair share of nightmares. His therapist convinced him that talking about them would lessen their hold on you. It had worked for him and it would work for John. His partner kept way too much stuff bottled up.

Nature’s call answered, Cam stopped at the foot of the bed to drink in the sight before him. John had kicked the covers aside then partially rolled onto his back, head tilted to his left, left leg flat to the bed, knee cocked to relieve any pull on his injured thigh. His left arm lay outstretched across the bed in invitation while his right arm rested on his hip, fingertips brushing the edge of his treasure trail while his right leg was straight, his left foot resting against the calf. Not to be left out, John’s thick cock was half hard and straining the fabric of his boxer briefs.

Love for the man before him swamped Cam and he decided to show John what he meant to him. Yeah, the bond let them experience each other's feelings but there was still a knot of pain deep in John's heart that Cam decided to do something about.

Cam went back into the bathroom and spent several minutes preparing his surprise then eased onto the edge of the bed. He started at the point of John's shoulder and planted butterfly kisses on his pale skin until he reached John's jaw. There the light kisses turned to nibbles as he worked toward his mate’s mouth, John’s stubble prickly against his lips. John’s mouth was closed so the nibbles turned to little licks until his lips parted and a soft moan issued forth. Cam went back to nibbling and kissing along John’s jaw and neck as his mate stirred beneath him.

“Mmmm, oh, god, Cam, mmmm.”

“Good morning, sunshine,” Cam said as he peered into beautiful hazel eyes. John’s eyes were the most amazing, their color constantly shifting with his moods. There was the deep green of anger and the lighter green of happiness but his favorite was the warm green with hints of gold and brown circled in blue that only he saw.

John rolled his eyes and yawned. “Afternoon is more like it.”

“Well, we deserved to sleep in after last night,” Cam said as he leaned in to steal a kiss.

John returned the kiss then shoved him and the covers aside. “Let me up or you get to explain to my Quartermaster why I need a new mattress.”

0o0o0o0o0o0o0

John nudged Cam aside so he could ease out of bed. His leg felt better but he didn't want to push his luck and possibly re-injure it.

Cam followed him to the bathroom then stood in the doorway coming up with increasingly unlikely tales for the Quartermaster regarding his bed. Cam obviously had no intention of letting him out of his sight and John found he was okay with that.

John glanced over at the shower and thought it on and noticed that the bottle of waterproof lube was sitting next to his soap. He stripped and climbed in, not surprised when Cam joined him. In a fit of spontaneity, John tugged Cam close and captured his soft lips in a heated embrace as his hands roamed the hard body pressed against his own. A questing fingertip grazed Cam’s hole and found it loose and slick.

He decided to give Cam what he oh so obviously wanted and reached for the lube. Cock slick, he spun Cam and pressed him against the wall then ever so slowly worked his cock in.

Each time he pulled out, he thrust in a little deeper until his groin met Cam’s cheeks. The blowjob Cam had given him the previous evening to consummate their bond had been great but his instincts were clamoring for something more as the bond was present but weak. Those same instincts also told him what was necessary. As he leisurely thrust into Cam’s tight hole, he shifted his focus to his mental shields. Imagining them as a flexible bubble, he expanded their protection outwards until they enveloped Cam and himself then he let go.

John felt Cam shudder in his arms as the flood of long pent-up emotion washed over him. The flow was intense and drew an answering current from Cam. His started as a trickle that gradually waxed in strength until it echoed John’s. Following in the wake of the tides of passion, came tendrils of silver energy that burrowed deep into their very beings, plumbing depths that their previous bond never reached.

When Cam’s orgasm hit, it set off John’s and rebounded through the lens of their bond. The reflections had them shaking for several minutes at the intensity of the feeling. Nothing would ever separate them again.

 

 


End file.
